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HARD  KNOCKS 

A  LIFE  STORY  of  the 
VANISHING  WEST 


By  HARRY  (SAM)  YOUNG 


CHICAGO 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  INC.,  PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1915 
By  Harry  Young 


a.  a* 


BANCROFT 
UBHARY 


DEDICATION 

TO  those  brave  and  generous  men  whom 
I  met  and  knew  along  the  rugged  Life 
Journey   herein  described,  I  dedicate 
these  treasures  of  a  fruitful  memory.    May 
those  who  fell  by  the  wayside  rest  peacefully, 
and  those  who  still  trudge  on,  find  Life's 
Trail  less  difficult  as  they  approach  its  end. 

HARRY  YOUNG 


PUBLISHER'S  NOTE 

IN  presenting  this  book,  the  publishers  feel  that 
they  need  not  emphasize  either   its   purpose  or 
its  merits.    They  will  speak  for  themselves.    The 
reader  will  need  no  spur  to  his  interest,  nor  the 
work  require  either  apology  or  explanation.  Inter- 
est is  certain  from  beginning  to  end,  and  few  readers 
will  wish  to  lay  the  book  aside  until  they  have  reached 
the  end  of  the  rapidly  succeeding  incidents.  If  crudity 
mar  in  any  respect,  it  will  be  quickly  forgotten  in  the 
manifest  truthfulness  and  candor  of  the  narrator. 

The  great  lesson  of  the  book  is  that  "truth  is 
stranger  than  fiction."  The  life  story  here  given 
belongs  to  a  generation  that  has  not  only  seen 
the  world's  greatest  advancement,  but  has  been 
a  part  of  the  greatest  development  of  our  own 
country.  It  has  been  a  period  rich  in  story,  and  the  ex- 
periences here  detailed  run  like  a  thread  through  the 
entire  fabric.  In  the  main,  they  deal  not  with  the 
great  heroes, — the  Carsons,  the  Custers*  and  the  Buf- 
falo Bills, — but  with  the  great  multitude  of  brave  and 
adventurous  spirits  that  have  swept  over  the  West  in 
the  past  generation,  and  to  whose  undaunted  courage 
and  tireless  energy  our  development  is  mainly  due. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

Dedication 3 

Publisher's  Note  4 

CHAPTER  1 9 

A  Life  in  Summary,  Effects  of  Dime  Novel  Literature, 
Etc. 

CHAPTER  II 13 

New   Ideals,   Hugh,   the    Kentuckian,   Off   for   Fort 
Gibson. 
CHAPTER  III 20 

Our  Well-Tagged  Baggage,  Deserted,  "Tenderfoot," 
A  Strange  Offer  of  Marriage,  Etc. 

CHAPTER  IV.  28 

In  the  Creek  Indian  Country,  The  Seminoles,  Lost  on 
the  Range. 

CHAPTER  V.  35 

The  Cherokee  Strip,  Ousted  by  Uncle  Sam,  Bank  Rob- 
bers, Buckets  of  Real  Snakes. 

CHAPTER  VI 41 

Santa  Fe  Extension  West,  "Wild  Bill,"  Kansas  Buf- 
falo Exterminated  in  Two  Years. 

CHAPTER  VII 60 

Pioneer  Life  at  Fort  Dodge,  Unsung  and  Unhung 
Heroes,  A  Tribute  to  Dance  Hall  Girls. 

CHAPTER  VIII 69 

Murders  for  Money,  Over  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad, 
Red  Pat  the  Teamster. 

CHAPTER  IX 76 

On  the  Chugwater,  Fort  Laramie,  My  First  Sioux, 
Red  Cloud,  Etc. 

CHAPTER  X 83 

Historic  Happenings  at  and  Around  Fort  Laramie,  Cus- 
toms and  Habits  of  Army  Officers,  Reminiscences  of 
Army  Officers. 

CHAPTER  XI 97 

Great  Powers  Invested  in  Commanding  Officers  of 
Frontier  Posts,  A  Nut  for  Scientists  to  Crack,  An 
Amusing  Incident. 

CHAPTER  XII 109 

The  Sleep  of  the  Just,  In  the  Platte  River,  Light  on 
Indian  Policies,  Some  Famous  Sioux  Chiefs. 

CHAPTER  XIII 117 

"Sitting  Bull,"  Indians  as  Beggars  and  Drinkers,  A 
High-Grade  Indian  Funeral,  "Red  Cloud." 


CHAPTER  XIV 126 

More  Bad  Indians,  Beef  Cattle  Issues,  Indian  Coward- 
ice, Sioux  Enumeration,  The  Puppy  Dog  Feast  and 
What  it  Accomplished. 

CHAPTER  XV 134 

The  Sioux  Language,  Kise  of  Tobacco  Habit,  Indian 
Courtship  and  Marriage,  Sioux  Theory  of  the  Origin 
of  Indians. 

CHAPTER  XVI 142 

Sioux  War  Dance,  How  Scalping  is  Done,  Sun  Wor- 
shippers, Counting  Their  Virgins,  Horrible  Tortures. 

CHAPTER  XVII 147 

How  the  Interior  Department  Lost  Control  of  the  Sioux, 
Unwritten  History  of  the  Custer  Massacre. 

CHAPTER  XVIII 159 

A  Tribute  to  Captain  Burke.    Calamity  Jane. 

CHAPTER  XIX 176 

Jim  Duncan,  the  Great  Wagonmaster,  Sioux  Indians 
Attack  and  Kill  My  Partner,  "Old  Mack." 

CHAPTER  XX 187 

Establishing  Custer  City,  the  First  Town  in  the  Black 
Hills. 

CHAPTER  XXI 192 

Organizing  the  Custer  City  Scouts,  Dying  Confession 
from  a  Man  Who  Did  Not  Die. 

CHAPTER  XXII 201 

Indians    Stealing   Montana   Herd,   Scalping   a   Sioux. 

CHAPTER  XXIII 209 

First  Sermon  in  Deadwood,  Indian  Head  Celebration, 
Death  of  "Wild  Bill." 

CHAPTER  XXIV 225 

A  Ride  with  Dispatches,  The  Horse  a  Faithful  Sen- 
tinel, Comic  Happenings  in  Deadwood. 

CHAPTER  XXV.  241 

My  Buffalo  Venture  in  Portland. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Opposite  Page 
The  Author,  Harry  (Sam)  Young 9 

The  great  gun  fight  between  Kansas  and  Texas  gun  fighters  in 

Tim  Shea's  dance  hall,  Newton,  Kansas,  1867.     (Sketch) . .     16 

The  invention  of  the  author:     Skinning  buffalo  by  mule  power, 

Southwestern  Kansas.     (Sketch) 40 

A  group  of  Dodge  City,  Kansas,  gun  fighters  in  1870.     (From 

an  old  photo  taken  in  Kansas  City  in  1871) 56 

Calamity  Jane,  the  great  female  character  of  Wyoming  from 

1875  to  1906 64 

Frank  Geruard,  the  great  Indian  scout,  1875-6.     (Sketch) 72 

Tieing  a  soldier  up  by  the  thumbs  at  Fort  Laramie,  Wyoming, 

1873.     (Sketch) 96 

The  author  tied  " spread  eagle"  on  a  cannon,  Fort  Fetterman, 

Wyoming,  1873.     (Sketch) 104 

Young  Sioux  Indians  torturing  themselves  at  their  Sun  Dance, 

Bed  Cloud  Agency,  1874.    (Sketch) 112 

The  hanging  of  three  desperate  characters  at  Laramie  City, 

Wyoming,  Oct.  28,  1868.     (From  an  old  Daguerrotype) 120 

Sioux  Indians  counting  their  virgins  at  their  Sun  Dance  at 

Bed  Cloud  Agency,  1874.    (Sketch) 128 

The  death  of  Frank  Appleton,  acting  agent  Bed  Cloud  Agency, 

1875.    The  true  cause  of  the  Sioux  War,  1876.     (Sketch) . .  144 

California  Joe,  the  great  mountaineer  and  guide  in  the  Black 
Hills,  S.  D.     (Sketch) 160 

The  author  and  companions  attacked  by  Sioux  Indians,  1876. 

(Sketch)    * 192 

The   death  of  Wild  Bill,  Aug.  2,  1876,  at  Deadwood,  S.  D. 

(Sketch)    208 

Buffalo  Bill  Cody  and  friends  visiting  the  grave  of  Wild  Bill 

at  Deadwood,  S.  D.,  1906 216 

The  author  scalping  a  dead  Sioux  Indian,  1876.    (Sketch) 240 


NOTE:  The  illustrations  in  "Hard  Knocks'7  after  which  the 
word  "sketch"  appears,  were  drawn  from  descriptions  fur- 
nished by  the  author. 


THE  AUTHOR 
Harry   (Sam)   Young 


HARD  KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  LIFE  IN  SUMMARY— EFFECTS  OF  DIME  NOVEL  LITER- 
ATURE— A  FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD  RUNAWAY— THE 
LOST  BROTHER— ALONE  IN  NEW  YORK— OFF  FOR 
THE  WESTERN  PLAINS— MY  STRANGE  FRIEND, 
"THE  HEALER." 

IN  this  country  where  blood  and  station  count  for 
naught,  and  where  the  race  of  life  is  open  to  all 
comers,  it  is  for  little  more  than  a  mere  matter 
of  record  to  say  that  I,  Harry  Young,  the  author, 
was  born  in  Cape  Vincent,  New  York,,  in  1849. 
I  left  my  home  in  1863,  at  the  age  of  14  years,  and, 
as  this  narrative  will  show,  have  lived  in  the  West 
ever  since  that  time.     My  home  is  now  in  Portland, 
Oregon,  the  metropolis  of  the  great  Northwest.  When 
observation  shows  me  what  has  been  accomplished  by 
the  people  of  this  section  (to  the  generation  of  which 
it  has  been  my  privilege  to  belong),  I  feel  a  pardon- 
able pride  in  the  fact  that  it  is  in  the  midst  of  these 
people  my  life  thus  far  has  been  spent. 

I  am  not  sure  that  there  was  much,  if  any,  patriot- 
ism in  my  early  sentiments,  but  there  was  certainly  a 
decided  tinge  of  romance  in  my  make-up,  doubtless  due 
to  my  having  stored  in  my  brain  a  considerable  amount 
of  literature  of  the  dramatic  variety.  I  had  read 
everything  obtainable  in  the  line  of  dime  novels,  and 
my  head  was  so  filled  with  "hair-raising"  stories  of 
Indians,  hunters,  trappers,  and  other  denizens  of  the 
Wild  West,  that  I  had  my  mind  made  up  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  go  forth  and  encroach  upon  the  domains 
of  those  nomads  and  assist  in  the  extermination  of  the 
Noble  Red  Man. 

One  beautiful  morning  I  stole  away  from  home  and 
boarded  a  vessel  called  the  "Greyhound."  I  had  taken 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  10 

my  departure  without  going  through  the  formality  of 
bidding  my  parents  good-bye,  or  even  of  obtaining 
their  consent.  The  "Greyhound"  was  bound  for 
Oswego,  New  York,  and  was  loaded  with  shingle 
bolts.  The  distance  was  short,  and,  after  a  two-days' 
sail,  we  arrived  at  our  destination.  I  worked  for  two 
days  helping  unload  the  vessel,  for  which  I  received  the 
munificent  sum  of  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents.  This 
was  in  "shinplasters, — the  old  money  of  war  times.  I 
had  never  been  away  from  home  before  for  more  than 
two  days  at  a  time  in  my  life,  except  to  visit  friends 
and  relatives. 

With  this  two  dollars  and  fifty  cents  snugly  stowed 
away  in  my  pocket,  I  made  my  way  to  Fulton,  New 
York.  I  was  aware  before  leaving  home  that  my 
brother  "Bill,"  as  we  called  him,  was  working  in  a  ma- 
chine shop  there.  I  determined  to  find  him  if  possible. 
It  was  noon  when  I  arrived  in  Fulton,  and  I  went  into 
the  first  machine  shop  I  saw.  As  I  entered,  on  a  lathe 
lay  a  pair  of  greasy  trousers  which  I  recognized  as  a 
part  of  "Bill's"  old  working  clothes,  although  he  had 
been  away  from  home  for  one  year. 

I  sat  down  and  waited  for  some  of  the  men  to  come 
back  from  their  dinner.  Presently,  one  of  them 
walked  in  and  I  asked  him  if  "Bill"  Young  worked  in 
that  shop. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  "he's  here.  You  stay  with  those 
old  pants  and  you  will  find  him  soon,  for  they  belong 
to  him." 

Bill  came  in  shortly  afterward  and  was  much  sur- 
prised to  see  me.  He  immediately  wanted  to  know 
where  I  was  going.  I  informed  him  that  I  was  bound 
for  New  York,  but  did  not  tell  him  it  was  my  intention 
to  become  an  Indian  fighter. 

"You  may  stay  here  tonight,"  he  said,  "but  in  the 
morning  you  must  go  back  home.  I  know  you  have 
run  away." 


Page  11  HARD    KNOCKS 

I  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  on,  and  after  a  while 
he  consented.  The  next  morning  he  paid  my  fare  to 
New  York  City.  I  have  never  seen  him  since. 

I  arrived  in  New  York  City  that  night  at  ten 
o'clock.  I  shall  never  forget  it.  I  alighted  at  the  old 
Hudson  River  depot,  at  Tenth  Avenue  and  Thirtieth 
Street,  and  was  carrying  an  old-style  grip-sack.  The 
hackmen  immediately  began  to  crowd  around  me,  each 
urging  me  to  ride  with  him.  I  did  not  care  to  do  so 
as  I  now  had  but  sixty-five  cents  in  my  pocket. 

Presently,  one  of  the  hackmen  snatched  my  carpet 
bag  from  my  hand,  and  placing  it  on  the  seat  of  the 
vehicle,  insisted  on  my  getting  in.  I  refused  to  do  so, 
and  told  my  troubles  to  a  passing  policeman.  He  com- 
pelled the  hackman  to  give  up  my  bag,  and  asked  me 
where  I  wanted  to  go.  On  being  informed  that  I  was 
a  stranger  in  the  city  wanting  to  find  a  cheap  lodging 
house,  he  took  me  across  the  street  to  a  place  having 
a  lunch  counter  on  the  ground  floor  and  rooms  upstairs. 
I  was  not  hungry,  and  went  to  bed  without  supper. 

Shortly  after  retiring,  I  was  disturbed  by  some- 
thing, I  knew  not  what.  I  sprang  up  bewildered, 
lighted  the  candle,  and  turned  down  the  bedding.  Good 
heavens!  My  companions  were  there  by  the  thou- 
sands. I  went  down  and  told  the  clerk  that  although 
I  was  fond  of  life  and  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  anyone, 
there  were  times  when  there  could  be  too  much  of  it, 
especially  in  a  bed.  I  sat  up  the  balance  of  the  night. 

The  next  day  I  obtained  a  position  as  bell  boy  in 
the  Weldon  Hotel,  at  the  corner  of  Broadway  and  How- 
ard Streets.  After  working  there  for  several  months 
I  went  to  New  Orleans,  from  which  place  I  worked  my 
passage  to  Memphis  on  the  old  steamer  "Bismark." 
From  there  I  made  my  way  to  Fort  Smith,  Arkansas. 

At  Fort  Smith  I  became  acquainted  with  a  queer 
character,  the  first  of  many  whom  I  met  later  on  in 
the  course  of  my  travels.  This  man  was  about  sixty 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  12 

years  old,  fully  six  feet  in  height,  with  gray  hair,  long 
gray  beard,  and  the  longest  arms  and  fingers  I  have 
ever  seen  on  anyone.  He  took  a  great  fancy  to  me  and 
told  me  a  great  many  strange  things,  among  them, 
that  he  was  "a  healer"  and  could  locate  and  cure  any 
disease  by  the  laying  on  of  his  hands.  He  said  that 
he  had  just  arrived  in  town,  and  wanted  just  such  a 
boy  as  myself  to  sell  tickets  and  distribute  handbills 
for  the  public  healing  which  he  proposed  to  do  while 
there.  We  finally  arrived  at  an  understanding  and  had 
some  bills  printed,  which"!  distributed.  These  an- 
announced  in  glowing  terms  that  "The  Healer"  would 
be  at  the  hotel  that  evening  at  eight  o'clock  and  would 
cure  all  ills  that  human  flesh  was  heir  to. 

When  the  much  anticipated  hour  arrived,  the  only 
persons  present  were  five  old  women,  one  of  whom  was 
an  old  negro  mammy,  who  had  with  her  a  humpbacked 
boy.  She  requested  the  heeler  to  remove  the  de- 
formity. The  healer  informed  her  that  he  could  do 
so  and  asked  her  to  return  with  the  boy  at  ten  o'clock 
on  the  following  morning.  She  became  indignant, 
saying  she  had  paid  ten  cents  and  was  entitled  to  an 
immediate  cure.  The  other  women  agreed  with  her, 
which  caused  considerable  commotion  and  terminated 
in  the  breaking  up  of  the  entertainment.  (Total  re- 
ceipts were  sixty  cents).  Becoming  thoroughly  dis- 
gusted I  went  to  bed,  and  shortly  after  was  joined  by 
my  bedfellow,  The  Healer.  For  the  remainder  of  the 
night,  he  kept  me  in  a  state  of  constant  fear  by  talking 
to  the  spirits.  I  made  a  firm  mental  resolve  then  and 
there,  that  if  good  fortune  permitted  me  to  live  until 
morning,  I  would  dissolve  partnership  with  my  strange 
friend.  Rising  early,  without  disturbing  him,  I  des- 
cended to  the  hotel  office,  and  after  some  very  rapid 
thinking,  I  concluded  to  leave  the  town  before  the 
negro  mammy  returned.  I  was  now  fifteen  years  of 
age,  and  more  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
adventure  than  ever. 


Page  13  HARD   KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  II. 

NEW  IDEALS— HUGH— THE  KENTUCKIAN— OFF  FOR 
FORT  GIBSON— MY  FIRST  RIFLE  AND  THE  FIRST 
INDIAN  — MY  FIRST  NIGHT  ON  THE  PLAINS  — 
ROUGHING  IT— FIRST  REQUEST  FOR  FOOD— FIRST 
WILD  GAME— MY  HERO. 


F 

r 


ROM  this  time  on,  I  heard  nothing  more  of  my 
friend,  The  Healer.  But  if  I  had  been  disgusted 
with  him,  my  first  strange  character,  I  was  to 
be  charmed  with  another  whom  I  next  met  in 
the  hotel  office.    This  new  acquaintance  was  a 
tall,  raw-boned  man,  fully   six   feet,   two   inches   in 
height,  dressed  entirely  in  buckskin   and   wearing   a 
broad-brimmed  hat  and  a  long  knife  sticking  in  his 
belt.    He  was  in  every  particular  my  ideal   of  the 
pictures  I  had  seen,  and  of  which  I  had  read  in  the  dime 
novels. 

Being  prompted  by  some  impulse,  I  commenced  a 
conversation  with  him,  during  which  he  told  me  he 
was  "Kentuck  Hugh"  (a  noted  trapper  and  hunter), 
and  that  he  had  killed  and  scalped  many  wild  Indians 
in  his  time.  He  remarked  that  he  was  leaving  at  once 
for  Fort  Gibson,  in  the  Cherokee  Territory,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  miles  northwest  from  Fort 
Smith,  and  that  he  intended  to  walk  the  entire  distance, 
sending  his  effects  ahead  by  stage,  with  the  exception 
of  two  blankets  and  a  long  rifle,  of  the  old  pattern, 
which  he  proposed  to  carry  with  him. 

In  suppressed  excitement,  I  asked  him  if  I  might 
accompany  him,  and  my  joy  knew  no  bounds  when  he 
replied  in  true  backwoodsman  style:  "Sure!  be  glad  to 
have  you."  On  being  appraised  that  I  had  no  money, 
he  paid  my  hotel  bill,  amounting  to  a  dollar  and  twenty- 
five  cents,  and  put  his  bundle  and  my  carpet  bag  aboard 
the  stage.  We  crossed  the  river  in  a  flat-bottomed 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  14 

boat,  and  started  on  our  way.  How  my  whole  being 
thrilled,  and  how  my  heart  beat  at  the  thought  that 
I  was  going  into  a  country  of  real  live  Indians.  Here- 
tofore I  had  never  had  a  gun  of  any  kind  in  my  hand, 
and  I  longed  to  handle  his,  but  dared  not  ask  him  that 
privilege. 

We  had  walked  but  a  short  distance,  when  we  saw 
a  man  coming  on  horseback.  "Here  comes  an  Indian." 
said  Hugh,  and  my  heart  beat  fast,  expecting  every 
moment  to  see  Hugh  kill  and  scalp  him. 

"How  are  you  and  where  are  you  going?"  the  In- 
dian asked,  in  very  good  English. 

"To  Fort  Gibson,"  Hugh  replied.  "Are  we  on  the 
right  road?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  Indian's  reply.  "This  is  the  stage 
road  and  you  can't  go  wrong." 

He  then  asked  Hugh  if  he  had  any  whiskey  with 
him,  and  said  that  if  he  would  give  him  a  drink,  he 
would  go  back  with  us  and  give  us  dinner.  My  com- 
panion produced  a  small  flask  of  Peach  Brandy  and 
gave  the  Indian  a  drink,  whereupon  he  turned  back 
with  us.  I  was  watching  him  very  closely  all  the  while, 
and  thinking  that  he  was  a  rather  tame  looking '  In- 
dian, as  he  was  dressed  in  white  men's  clothes.  The 
only  characteristics  about  him  that  to  my  mind  were 
anything  like  those  of  an  Indian,  were  his  dark  com- 
plexion and  a  few  turkey  feathers  he  wore  in  his  hat. 

After  a  short  time  we  arrived  at  his  house.  Hugh 
took  a  drink  from  the  flask  and  gave  our  Indian  friend 
another  drink;  the  latter  then  spoke  to  his  squaw  in 
the  Cherokee  tongue,  ordering  her  to  get  our  dinner. 
She  complied,  but  not  in  the  most  gracious  manner 
possible,  looking  daggers  at  us  all  the  while. 

Presently  the  dinner  was  ready,  and  a  really  good 
meal  it  was.  The  Indian  retained  the  flask  while  we 
ate,  and  drank  what  was  left.  Before  we  had  finished 


Page  15  HARD   KNOCKS 

eating  he  came  in,  whooping  and  yelling  in  true  Indian 
fashion  and  said  to  Hugh:  "Don't  you  know  that  you 
can  be  arrested  for  bringing  whiskey  into  the  Indian 
Territory?  Now  if  you  don't  give  me  some  more,  I'll 
have  both  of  you  arrested."  Such  is  Indian  gratitude. 

I  was  badly  frightened  and  expected  every  moment 
to  see  Hugh  shoot  him,  but  instead,  Hugh  was  very 
mild  and  told  the  Indian  he  had  no  more  with  him.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  open  his  shirt  front  and  bundle 
of  blankets,  in  order  to  convince  the  Indian  he  was 
telling  the  truth.  I  was  disgusted  with  my  companion. 
I  supposed  that  Hugh,  being  an  old  Indian  fighter, 
would  surely  kill  this  red-skin  on  the  spot.  Presently 
the  Indian,  seemingly  satisfied  that  Hugh  was  not  de- 
ceiving him,  mounted  his  horse  and  went  back  down 
the  road,  yelling  like  mad. 

We  gathered  up  our  blankets  and  started  on  our 
way,  Hugh  acting  in  a  very  sullen  manner.  After  a 
little  he  said  to  me :  "If  it  had  not  been  for  that  Indian 
squaw,  I  would  have  killed  him,  dead  sure."  This  raised 
Hugh  a  notch  in  my  estimation,  as  I  was  beginning  to 
think  that  he  was  not  the  ideal  of  my  dime-novel  edu- 
cation. 

We  trudged  on  until  sundown,  when  we  stopped 
for  the  night  under  a  large  oak  tree.  Hugh  lighted 
the  fire, — just  as  I  had  read  in  the  novels, — spread  out 
the  blankets,  and  we  laid  down  to  sleep.  This  was  my 
first  night  on  the  frontier.  Sleep  for  me  was  impos- 
sible. When  darkness  came,  a  feeling  of  home-sick- 
ness came  over  me,  and  oh !  how  I  wished  myself  back 
at  home  in  my  nice,  clean  bed.  I  fell  to  thinking  of 
father,  mother,  sisters,  brothers — ran  the  gamut  of 
my  friends  and  acquaintances  in  the  old  town  and 
wondered  what  each  was  doing  just  then.  I  choked 
down  many  sobs  that  night,  for  I  did  not  want  Hugh 
to  think  I  was  not  game. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  16 

s 

At  this  time  I  was  well  dressed  and  was  wearing 
low  cut  shoes,  called  Oxford  ties.  The  heels  were  very 
high  and  were  almost  under  the  instep,  and  from  that 
one  day's  walking  in  the  hot  sun  and  sand,  my  shoes 
were  runover  to  one  side  and  my  feet  very  sore. 

Morning  came  at  last.  The  birds  began  to  sing  and 
Nature  was  awake  again  for  another  day.  Hugh 
awoke,  and  after  stretching  himself  and  yawning  a 
time  or  two,  said :  "Well,  my  boy !  How  do  you  feel  ?" 

"Pretty  good,"  I  replied,  "except  that  my  feet  are 
very  sore." 

He  then  took  me  to  a  spring  close  by  and  I  bathed 
my  feet,  which  helped  greatly.  We  rolled  up  the 
blankets  and  ate  some  crackers  and  cold  meat,  which 
Hugh  had  brought  along.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me 
how  we  were  going  to  get  any  food,  but  I  found  out 
very  soon.  We  trudged  along  until  three  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  when  we  came  to  a  house  by  the  road- 
side. Hugh  told  me  to  go  over  and  ask  for  something 
to  eat,  as  neither  of  us  had  any  money.  I  did  not  want 
to  go  and  informed  him  that  I  had  never  begged  in 
my  life. 

"You'll  get  used  to  that,  my  boy,  before  you're  as 
old  as  I!"  was  his  reply. 

I  summed  up  courage,  choked  down  my  pride,  and 
knocked  hard  on  the  door,  which  was  opened  by  a 
black  squaw.  I  asked  her  for  something  to  eat.  She 
didn't  seem  to  understand  I  was  asking  for  food,  so  I 
began  to  make  signs.  These,  too,  were  without  avail ; 
and  so,  neither  of  us  being  able  to  speak  the  other's 
tongue,  the  attempt  was  a  failure  and  resulted  in 
having  the  door  shut  in  my  face  with  a  bang.  I  started 
back  to  Hugh,  feeling  very  downcast  at  my  unsuccess- 
ful appeal  for  food.  On  my  way  back,  however,  I 
noticed  -an  old-fashioned  cheese  press  with  a  cheese 
under  it  and  a  large  stone  on  top  for  pressing.  While 


Page  17  HARDKNOCKS 

watching  the  house  closely  to  see  if  I  was  observed,  I 
went  to  the  press  and  stole  the  cheese, — my  first  theft. 
But  I  know,  dear  reader,  you  will  forgive  me  this  bit 
of  wrong-doing ;  as  one,  when  hungry,  dead  broke,  and 
utterly  unable  to  speak  Cherokee,  will  do  almost  any- 
thing to  secure  something  to  eat. 

Walking  on  about  four  miles,  we  came  to  a  spring 
where  we  concluded  to  camp  for  the  night.  We  ate 
the  cheese  and  drank  the  spring  water  to  wash  it  down, 
and,  as  a  result,  neither  of  us  slept  very  much  that 
night.  Although  a  rather  slim  supper,  the  "quality" 
was  there,  and,  consequently,  we  dreamed  of  every- 
thing imaginable  during  the  little  time  we  slept. 

When  morning  came,  we  started  on,  and  after  a 
walk  of  an  hour  or  so,  arrived  at  a  stage  station  kept 
by  an  old  Irishman,  with  a  heart  as  big  as  a  barrel. 
He  had  just  gotten  up  and  greeted  us  with:  "Top  av 
the  marnin  to  yez ;  ye  air  out  early." 

"Yes,"  my  companion  replied,  "and  very  hungry  at 
that."  We  were  offered  breakfast,  which,  however,  had 
a  string  attached  to  it  in  the  shape  of  a  woodpile. 

"Now,  bhoys,"  said  the  Irishman,  "here  is  a  fine 
axe ;  chop  me  a  bit  of  wood,  and  yez  shall  have  a  f  oine 
meal." 

Hugh,  being  a  fine  axeman,  we  soon  completed  our 
task,  Hugh  doing  the  chopping  and  I  carrying  it  in. 
Presently,  breakfast  was  ready.  The  Irishman  called 
us  in  and  said:  "Bhoys,  ye're  all  right.  Sit  down  and 
fill  up;  there's  some  venison." 

I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  of  what  he  meant  by 
venison,  and  presently  asked  Hugh  what  it  was. 

"Deer  meat,  my  boy,"  was  his  reply. 

How  delighted  I  was  at  the  thought  of  eating  my 
first  wild  game.  Now  I  knew  that  all  I  had  read  in  the 
dime  novels  was  true.  Before  leaving,  the  Hibernian, 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  18 

noticing  that  I  limped,  gave  me  some  coal  oil  with 
which  to  bathe  my  feet,  and  which  helped  them 
wonderfully.  He  also  gave  us  food  enough  to  last  us 
two  days,  and  told  us  we  would  find  another  stage 
station  twenty-five  miles  farther  on. 

We  started;  I  was  satisfied  with  the  world  and 
everything  in  it.  My  feeling  of  home-sickness  was  en- 
tirely gone.  About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  we 
were  still  traveling  when,  on  looking  a  short  distance 
to  one  side  of  the  road,  I  saw  about  a  dozen  turkeys. 

"Hugh!"  I  exclaimed,  "there  are  some  turkeys; 
there  must  be  a  house  near  by." 

"Hush!"  he  said,  "those  are  wild  turkeys."  And 
before  I  could  regain  my  senses,  he  dropped  on  one 
knee  and  fired.  Down  fell  the  largest  bird,  and  unable 
to  contain  myself,  I  rushed  after  it  and  carried  it  back 
to  Hugh  in  triumph. 

"Pretty  good  shot.  Turkey  for  supper  tonight," 
said  Hugh,  as  he  reloaded  his  gun.  One  can  imagine 
my  admiration  for  him  the  remainder  of  the  after- 
noon. I  set  him  up  for  my  hero,  and  to  this  day  can 
see  him  walking  ahead  of  me,  I  carrying  the  turkey. 
Hugh  was  a  great  walker,  and  kept  me  busy  keeping 
up  with  him.  I  thought  him  the  greatest  man  in  the 
world,  and  that  if  some  day  I  could  be  like  him,  the 
height  of  my  ambition  would  be  reached. 

On  arriving  at  the  stage  station,  we  ate  the  food 
furnished  by  our  friend  at  the  last  station.  After  a 
good  night's  rest  in  the  hayloft,  we  had  turkey — roast 
turkey — for  breakfast.  We  helped  about  the  place,  re- 
maining all  day  that  day  to  rest  and  finish  up  that 
turkey.  We  were  well  treated  there,  and  I  for  one  was 
loath  to  leave  the  place.  Hugh  entertained  me  all  the 
while  with  accounts  of  his  adventures  with  Indians  and 
wild  animals.  How  I  admired  that  man!  Why,  I 
would  have  died  for  him  any  moment. 


Page  19 


HARD   KNOCKS 


To  me,  our  next  day's  journey  was  not  so  hard,  as 
we  were  in  the  timber  all  day.  We  were  protected 
from  the  rays  of  the  sun  and  the  sand  was  not  as  hot 
as  it  was  at  first.  The  woods  were  filled  with  wild 
doves,  and  to  me  their  cooing  was  so  sad  that  it  made 
me  homesick  to  hear  them. 

"Why  don't  you  shoot  some  of  them,  Hugh?"  I 
asked. 

He  looked  at  me  in  disgust.  "Wait  until  we  find 
some  larger  game,  my  boy,"  he  replied.  "We  are  al- 
most out  of  the  settlements  and  ought  to  get  a  shot  at 
a  deer  soon."  The  thought  of  it  thrilled  me  and  I  kept 
a  good  lookout,  but  saw  no  deer.  We  arrived  at  the 
third  station  about  dark,  but  there  the  keeper  was 
not  so  friendly  as  the  others  we  had  passed.  After 
some  talk,  however,  he  thawed  out  and  we  found  him 
to  be  a  pretty  good  fellow.  We  trudged  on  again  next 
day,  stopping  at  another  station  that  night.  The  fol- 
lowing night  we  arrived  at  Fort  Gibson. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  20 


CHAPTER  III. 

OUR  WELL-TAGGED  BAGGAGE— DESERTED— "TENDER- 
FOOT"— A  STRANGE  OFFER  OF  MARRIAGE— THE 
INDIAN  ENGINEERING  PARTY— AN  OLD  FRIEND— A 
HORRIBLE  PRACTICAL  JOKE. 

ON  our  arrival,  we  went  to  the  hotel.    Before 
entering,  Hugh  reminded  me  that  he  had 
no  money,  and  advised  me  to  say  nothing 
about  it  while  we  were  in  the  hotel.     He 
boldly  registered   our   names,   and,   as   the 
stage  office  was  in  the  hotel,  he  asked  if  our  baggage 
had  been  left  there  by  the  stage. 

"Yes,"  the  clerk  replied,  producing  it;  mine,  with 
a  tag  attached  calling  for  four  dollars,  and  Hugh's 
for  three  dollars. 

The  next  morning  Hugh  informed  me  that  he  was 
going  out  on  the  grade  to  look  for  a  job  as  bridge  car- 
penter. The  Missouri,  Kansas  &  Texas  Railroad  was 
then  grading  its  road  about  four  miles  west  of  Fort 
Gibson.  Heretofore,  I  had  supposed  that  the  occupa- 
tion of  Indian  fighters  consisted  entirely  of  hunting, 
trapping  and  slaying  Indians,  and  was  correspondingly 
disappointed  in  my  hero  on  being  told  by  him  that  he 
was  going  to  work.  We  left  the  hotel  early  in  the 
morning  without  settling  our  bills,  and  had  walked 
about  two  miles,  when  we  arrived  at  a  spring,  to  the 
north  of  which  was  a  wooded  canyon.  At  this  point 
Hugh  left  me,  saying  he  was  going  into  the  brush  to 
cut  a  couple  of  walking  sticks,  and  requested  that  I 
wait  where  I  was  until  he  returned.  After  waiting 
about  an  hour,  I  began  to  think  that  some  wild 
animal  had  eaten  him.  I  was  considerably  frightened, 
and  halpoed  to  him.  Receiving  no  response,  I  went 
up  to  the  top  of  a  near-by  ridge,  and  from  there  saw 
the  railroad  graders  at  work.  I  ran  to  them  in  great 


Page  21  H  A  R  D    K  N  O  C  K  S 

trepidation  and  told  them  that  my  partner  was  miss- 
ing, and  that  I  thought  he  had  been  eaten  by  wild 
animals.  They  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Here  is  another  tenderfoot,"  was  their  only  reply. 
The  expression  "tenderfoot,"  I  had  never  heard  be- 
fore, and  I  naturally  thought  the  graders  referred  to 
my  feet,  which  were  very  sore  and  tender  and  I  felt 
that  had  they  walked  as  far  as  I,  their  feet  would 
have  been  in  a  like  condition.  Sometime  afterward 
I  learned  the  term  applied  not  to  one's  feet,  but  was 
a  common  expression  for  a  "greenhorn"  in  the 
country. 

I  asked  the  graders  for  work,  but  was  refused. 
Then  I  returned  to  the  hotel  hoping  to  find  or  hear 
something  of  Hugh,  but  was  told  they  had  not  seen 
him,  so  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  deserted 
me.  I  was  homesick  and  heartbroken,  and  my  am- 
bition vanished — "great  Indian  fighters  existed  not  in 
reality,  but  on  paper  only." 

I  concluded  that  as  I  was  alone  I  would  go  back 
to  Fort  Smith,  and  asked  the  hotel  man  for  my  carpet 
bag.  He  refused,  however,  to  let  me  have  it  until  I 
paid  him  six  dollars — two  for  the  hotel  and  four  for 
the  stage  company;  and  no  amount  of  pleading  on 
my  part  could  soften  his  heart  or  change  his  decision. 
Crestfallen,  I  departed  from  the  hotel  minus  my 
carpet  bag;  arriving  at  the  first  stage  station  that 
night,  footsore,  weary,  and  discouraged.  The  station- 
man  took  me  in,  giving  me  a  good  meal,  and  I  enjoyed 
a  good  night's  rest.  The  next  morning  he  offered  to 
engage  me  to  dig  potatoes  for  him,  for  which  he 
agreed  to  pay  me  fifty  cents  a  day  and  my  board  and 
lodging. 

Here  was  the  turning  point  in  my  career.  I  had 
arrived  at  this  station  the  previous  evening  with  the 
firm  resolve  to  return  to  home  and  friends ;  the  ardor 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  22 

of  western  adventures  had  undergone  a  severe  shock, 
and  was  at  a  decidedly  low  ebb.  The  ideals  in  which, 
in  my  boyish  fancy,  I  had  placed  so  much  confidence, 
had  completely  vanished,  and  unpleasant  memories 
alone  remained  with  me  for  comfort  and  consolation. 
However,  I  felt  induced  to  accept  the  offer  of  the 
station-man  and  for  two  weeks  worked  for  him, 
digging  potatoes. 

During  this  time  I  had  gradually  gained  courage 
and  my  adventurous  spirit  was  again  in  the  ascend- 
ancy. My  efforts  and  diligence  evidently  met  with 
favor  in  the  eyes  of  my  employer,  for  one  day  he 
called  me  into  his  room  and  asked  me  how  I  liked  the 
country. 

"Fairly  well,"  I  replied. 

"Well,"  he  rejoined,  "do  you  want  to  become  a 
rich  man?  If  so,  I  will  tell  you  how." 

I  looked  at  him  without  speaking,  and  he  went  on : 
"As  you  know,  my  wife  is  a  Cherokee,  and  she  has  a 
sister  just  your  age  who  has  seen  you  and  likes  you. 
Her  mother,  who  lives  on  the  hill  yonder,  owns  many 
head  of  cattle  and  horses,  and  a  great  deal  of  corn 
land,  all  under  cultivation.  She  is  old  now,  and  when 
she  dies  the  girl  and  my  wife  will  get  it  all.  There 
is  a  white  man  working  for  her  mother  who  has 
been  trying  to  marry  the  girl,  but  she  prefers  you 
and  wants  to  meet  you  and  will  be  here  in  the 
morning.  I  will  do  the  talking  for  both,  and  can  fix 
it  up  in  a  few  minutes;  then  you  can  go  to  Fort 
Gibson  and  be  married." 

This  man,  Pat,  was  a  big-hearted  Irishman  and 
meant  well,  but  as  for  my  getting  married — well,  I 
was  not  exactly  in  the  mood  for  discussing  matters 
of  that  nature  just  then. 

True  to  the  Irishman's  word,  the  girl  came  the 
next  day.  She  was  astride  a  horse,  bare  back,  and 


Page  23  HARD   KNOCKS 

with  only  a  rope  loop  in  the  horse's  mouth  for  a 
bridle.  She  was  a  well-formed  girl,  but  I  could  not 
fancy  her  for  a  wife,  particularly  for  my  wife.  The 
Irishman  talked  to  her  in  her  native  tongue  (Chero- 
kee) and  then  to  me  in  English,  but  as  I  did  not  care 
to  offend  either  of  them,  I  told  him  I  would  think  it 
over  that  night.  He  urged  me  to  decide  quickly  be- 
fore the  other  white  man  could  secure  the  prize. 

Later  in  the  day  a  surveying  party  came  into  the 
station.  It  consisted  of  the  chief  and  twenty-one  men 
and  two  four-mule  teams,  and  was  engaged  in  running 
a  railroad  survey  from  Fort  Smith,  Arkansas,  to 
connect  with  the  main  line  of  the  Atlantic  &  Pacific 
Railway  at  Antelope  Hills,  three  hundred  miles  south. 
After  the  party  had  camped  in  front  of  the  station, 
the  chief  came  in  to  obtain  provisions,  and  they  had 
a  guide  to  take  them  through  the  Cherokee  country, 
as  it  was  difficult  to  find  camping  places.  While  in 
conversation  with  my  Irish  friend,  the  chief  gave 
his  name  as  Mr.  Innes.  My  heart  leaped  into  my 
mouth,  for  I  remembered  a  Mr.  Innes  who  was  City 
Engineer  in  my  home  town.  After  he  had  made 
some  purchases,  I  followed  him  out  and  asked  him  if 
he  ever  lived  in  Cape  Vincent,  New  York. 

"Born  and  raised  there,"  was  his  reply. 

"Then  you  must  know  my  father,  Captain  Young?" 

"Well,  I  should  say  I  do,"  he  ejaculated'.  "But 
what  under  the  sun  ever  brought  you  into  this 
country?" 

"Don't  know,"  I  replied,  ashamed  to  acknowledge 
that  the  little  yellow  covered  novels  were  the  cause 
of  it.  He  took  me  over  to  his  camp  and  talked  to  me 
for  an  hour,  finally  saying:  "I  can't  let  the  son  of  an 
old  schoolmate  run  wild  put  here.  I  don't  really 
need  any  more  help,  but  will  put  you  on  the  pay  roll 
at  forty  dollars  per  month,  and  your  duties  will  be 
to  carry  the  lunch  bucket  and  give  the  transit  man 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  24 

a  back  sight  when  he  moves  on  ahead,  and  assist  in 
making  and  numbering  stakes  when  necessary." 

Of  course,  this  was  all  Greek  to  me,  but  I  was  to 
get  away  from  that  young  squaw  and  had  found  my 
father's  friend,  and  so  was  extremely  happy.  I  re- 
lated to  my  new  friend  the  troubles  I  had  been  having 
about  my  carpet  bag,  and  showed  him  my  shoes ;  or 
rather,  what  was  left  of  them,  for  they  were  almost 
gone.  The  next  day  he  sent  a  man  on  horseback  to 
Fort  Gibson  with  six  dollars  to  pay  the  charges  on 
my  carpet  bag;  and  to  my  great  joy,  he  returned 
with  it. 

We  camped  here  for  three  days,  and  in  the  mean- 
time Mr.  Innes  went  over  to  a  store  on  the  north 
side  of  the  river  and  purchased  a  pair  of  boots  for 
me.  They  were  about  two  sizes  too  large,  but  it  was 
the  best  he  could  do.  The  old  Irishman  paid  me  what 
he  owed  me  before  we  left.  He  was  very  much  dis- 
appointed at  the  thought  of  losing  a  prospective 
brother-in-law,  and  I  suppose  that  my  would-be  bride 
was  almost  heartbroken.  I  have  seen  neither  of 
them  since. 

Many  times  since  then  I  pondered  over  my  ex- 
treme good  fortune  in  unwittingly  eluding  the  trap 
set  for  me  by  that  wily  Irish  station-man.  Shortly 
after  our  departure  he  erected  a  large  building  and 
entered  into  a  co-operative  plan  with  the  Cherokees  of 
that  vicinity,  which  proved  disastrous  to  them.  The 
agreement  entered  into  was  to  the  effect  that  the 
Cherokees  were  each  to  contribute  a  certain  number 
of  Cherokee  cattle,  which  the  Irishman  was  to  take 
to  Kansas  City,  exchange  same  for  staple  products 
to  be  sold  at  the  Co-Operative  Store,  and  all  share 
in  the  profits.  They  filled  thirty  cars  with  these  cattle, 
and  Pat  took  them  to  Kansas  City,  realized  a  fabulous 
sum  and  departed  for  parts  unknown.  Ever  after 
his  departure  Pat  was  but  a  passing  memory  to  his 


Page  25  HARDKNOCKS 

faithful  Cherokee  wife  and  all  who  knew  him.  This 
base  deception  made  a  lasting-  impression  on  the 
Cherokees,  who  up  to  this  time  had  intermarried 
with  the  whites.  For  a  long  time  afterward,  they 
looked  on  every  white  man  with  supreme  disgust  and 
contempt. 

We  left  there  under  the  guidance  of  an  Indian, 
furnished  us  by  the  old  Irishman.  This  guide  made 
himself  generally  useful,  in  more  ways  than  one.  He 
as  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  various  waterholes, 
d  without  him  we  would  certainly  have  fared  badly. 

Being  a  tenderfoot,  I  was  the  butt  of  all  the  jokes 
played  in  the  camp  by  those  twenty-one  men,  and 
Mr.  Innes  was  as  bad  as  any  of  them.  On  my 
second  day  with  the  outfit  they  played  a  horrible 
practical  joke  on  me.  That  is,  it  was  horrible  as  far 
as  I  was  concerned. 

The  four-mule  teams  were  in  charge  of  a  character 
who  was  known  by  the  name  of  "California  Jack." 
This  man  was  noted  as  a  practical  joker  and  was 
particularly  fond  of  telling  stories  of  early  life  in 
California  in  which  he  had  centered  as  the  principal 
figure. 

At  night  we  slept  side  by  side  in  a  large  tent,  using- 
our  blankets  for  bedding,  and  with  our  feet  toward 
the  entrance.  Before  we  went  to  sleep  that  night, 
"California  Jack"  told  a  most  dreadful  snake  story. 
He  said  that  once,  while  in  California,  he  and  two 
others  were  asleep  in  a  tent,  just  as  we  were,  when 
a  rattle-snake  crawled  under  one  of  the  boy's  blankets 
and  coiled  himself  up  on  the  boy's  breast,  and  he  knew 
that  if  he  moved,  the  snake  would  bite  him,  which 
meant  certain  death,  and  that  the  only  way  to  save 
his  life  was  to  keep  perfectly  still  until  the  snake 
had  its  sleep  out.  According  to  the  teamster's  story, 
the  snake  crawled  away  after  a  while,  but  the  boy's 
scare  was  so  great  that  he  died  of  fright  within  ten 
minutes  after  the  snake  left  his  breast,  and  was 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  26 

buried  the  next  day.  "And  it  is  a  strange  fact," 
added  Jack,  "that  snakes  seem  to  know  boys.  Many 
times  in  California  I  have  known  them  to  attack  boys 
and  yet  never  bother  men." 

"Oh,  let  us  go  to  sleep,"  interrupted  the  other 
men.  "We  have  to  get  up  early." 

In  a  few  minutes  all  of  them  were  apparently 
sound  asleep,  when  I  felt  something  slimy  touch  my 
bare  leg.  Up  it  crawled  to  my  breast.  I  thought  of 
Jack's  warning  and  kept  still,  but  oh,  how  frightened 
I  was.  I  thought  I  would  die.  Presently,  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer,  and  jumped  clear  over  the  two  men 
who  were  sleeping  on  my  left.  Everyone  sprang  up 
and  wanted  to  know  what  the  matter  was.  "Snakes  I" 
was  all  I  could  say. 

"Oh,  you  are  dreaming,"  they  replied. 

"No,"  I  persisted,  "I  saw  him,  and  he  was  ten 

feet  long." 

"Yes,"  added  Jack,  "they  grow  that  long  in  this 
country."  We  then  shook  all  the  blankets,  but  find- 
ing nothing,  concluded  that  the  snake  had  escaped 
through  one  of  the  openings. 

We  all  laid  down  again,  but  there  was  no  more 
sleep  for  me.  I  was  on  the  lookout  for  snakes.  In  a 
few  minutes  everyone  was  snoring  once  more,  when 
again  I  felt  that  slimy  snake  crawling  up  my  bare 
leg.  I  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  then  grabbed  for 
it  and,  as  I  supposed,  caught  it  by  the  head. 

"Wake  up,  boys!"  I  yelled.  "I  have  him!"  Every- 
one jumped  up — Jack  telling  me  to  hold  the  snake 
fast  while  he  lighted  a  candle.  I  looked  at  the 
supposed  snake  and  discovered  that  it  was  only  a 
cattail ;  a  kind  of  weed  or  rush  that  grows  in  swamps. 
Jack  had  dampened  the  head  or  top  of  it,  and  it  was 
he  who  was  doing  the  trick.  All  laughed,  and  that 
ended  the  fun. 


Page  27 


HARD   KNOCKS 


VlJLV^ 

fro 
gra 


It  is  a  fact,  however,  that  it  was  a  bad  country 
for  snakes.  There  was  also  a  large  cricket  in  that 
part  of  the  country,  which  made  a  noise  exactly  like 
a  rattlesnake  and  which  startled  me  very  often,  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  boys.  The  transition 
m  "tenderfoot"  to  the  state  of  stolidity,  which 
adually  relieved  me  from  the  position  of  being  the 
butt  of  others'  jokes,  though  gradual,  was  in  due 
time  accomplished. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  28 


CHAPTER  IV. 

IN  THE  CREEK  INDIAN  COUNTRY— THE  SEMINOLES— 
THE  SAC  AND  FOX  INDIANS— ONCE  MORE  A  VICTIM 
—CARRIED  OFF  BY  A  NAKED  INDIAN— THE  SHAW- 
NESS—ATLANTIC  &  PACIFIC  RAILWAY  SURVEY*- 
"BILL  HENDERSON,"  THE  HALF-BREED  —  FIRST 
CATTLE  HERDING— LOST  ON  THE  RANGE. 

W  worked  in  this  vicinity  for  a  while,  and 
ater  went  into  the  Creek  Indian  country. 
The  Creeks,  like  the  Cherokees,  were 
civilized,  and  had  good  houses  and 
schools.  We  next  struck  the  Seminoles. 
These  Indians  were  crossed  to  a  great  extent  with 
the  Negroes,  as  before  the  war  a  great  many  Creeks 
and  Seminoles  owned  slaves.  They  intermarried  with 
the  squaws,  producing  very  dark  offspring.  We 
encountered  the  Sac  and  Fox  Indians  on  our  next 
move.  This  tribe  was  at  that  time  blanket  Indians 
and  of  fine  physique,  many  of  them  being  six  feet  in 
height.  A  few  of  them  exceeding  even  this  mark. 
They  lived  in  lodges  made  of  the  skins  of  elks  and 
other  animals,  and  had  their  faces  painted  in  various 
colors.  Many  of  them  are  now  immensely  wealthy, 
through  the  recent  discovery  of  oil  on  their  land. 
This  was  my  first  sight  of  real  blanket  Indians,  and 
I  found,  much  to  my  surprise,  that  they  were  not 
warlike  at  all,  but  were  frightful  beggars.  It  was 
here  again  that  I  began  to  think  that  dime  novels 
had  not  told  me  the  truth.  We  changed  guides  at 
each  Indian  tribe,  as  each  guide  went  with  us  through 
his  own  country  only. 

I  dared  not  tell  any  of  the  boys  that  I  had  run 
away  from  home  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  Indians, 
for  fear  that  they  would  laugh  at  me.  I,  however, 
grew  wiser  from  day  to  day,  and,  as  I  attained 


Page  29  HARD    KNOCKS 

further  wisdom,  it  became  more  and  more  difficult 
for  them  to  play  tricks  upon  me.  Although  I  had 
been  progressing  in  this  line,  the  boys  assisted  by 
the  Indian  guide,  did  play  another  trick  upon  me, 
while  in  the  Sac  and  Fox  country. 

Just  before  we  left  the  line  in  the  evening  to  go 
into  camp,  Mr.  Innes  asked  me  to  go  back  about  a 
mile  and  look  at  a  certain  stake.  To  do  this,  I  had 
to  go  across  a  low  place,  out  of  sight  of  the  other 
boys.  To  my  surprise,  I  was  stopped  by  an  Indian, 
who  was  painted  and  almost  naked.  He  rushed  at 
me,  caught  me  by  the  arm,  and  with  his  foot  lifted 
me  up  before  him  on  his  pony,  and  yelling  as  only 
an  Indian  can  yell,  rapidly  rode  off  with  me.  I  wanted 
to  yell  myself,  but  was  too  frightened  to  do  so.  How- 
ever, this  was  scarcely  necessary,  for  the  Indian  made 
enough  of  that  kind  of  noise  to  answer  for  both.  I 
fought  hard  to  escape  from  him,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 
The  reader  can  imagine  my  feelings,  as  I  had  every 
reason  to  believe  that  I  had  been  made  a  captive  by 
the  savage.  Dime  novels  had  told  the  truth,  after  all. 

We  rode  for  some  time,  and  presently  came  in 
sight  of  the  camp.  There  were  the  boys,  waving 
their  hats  and  laughing.  It  was  the  guide,  disguised, 
who  had  played  the  trick  on  me;  to  say  I  was  re- 
lieved, would  be  putting  it  mildly. 

We  next  entered  the  domain  of  the  Shawness,  but 
they  would  not  permit  us  to  pass  through  their 
country.  Mr.  Innes  met  them  at  a  council  held  under 
a  large  clump  of  oak  trees,  at  which  all  the  Indians 
wore  their  blankets,  and  were  painted  in  their  war 
colors.  To  me  it  was  a  great  sight.  Mr.  Innes, 
through  an  interpreter  furnished  by  their  agent,  in- 
formed them  that  he  and  his  party  were  only  looking 
through  the  country  by  request  of  the  Great  Father 
in  Washington. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  30 

"No,"  they  replied.  "You  can  go  no  farther;  you 
are  bad  men  and  must  go  back."  Mr.  Innes  then 
attempted  to  bluff  them,  by  telling  them  he  would 
send  for  the  soldiers,  but  all  to  no  avail.  And  after 
a  three  days'  council,  we  started  back  to  the  nearest 
town — Prairie  City,  the  then  terminus  of  the  Atlantic 
&  Pacific  Railroad.  We  had  been  out  for  four  months, 
and  on  our  return,  were  paid  off,  and  the  party  dis- 
banded. I  heard  later  that  Mr.  Innes  continued  the 
work  the  following  year,  under  escort  of  cavalry. 

In  company  with  Frank  Emmons,  one  of  the 
party,  we  walked  to  Fort  Gibson,  where  I  again  in- 
quired for  my  friend  Hugh,  but  found  no  one  who 
knew  anything  of  him. 

The  following  day  we  left  Fort  Gibson  and  walked 
to  Chetopa,  Kansas — the  then  terminus  of  the  Mis- 
souri, Kansas  &  Texas  Railway.  Here  that  road 
entered  the  Cherokee  Territory.  After  spending  our 
money,  we  went  south  six  miles  in  search  of  work. 
Later,  we  were  employed  to  pitch  hay  for  "Bill" 
Henderson,  a  half  breed  Cherokee,  and  a  veritable 
devil  when  he  was  under  the  influence  of  liquor.  A 
company  of  St.  Louis  people  had  leased  his  wild  hay 
land,  paying  him  so  much  per  acre  for  the  privilege 
of  cutting  the  hay,  which,  after  cutting,  was  stacked, 
baled  and  shipped  to  St.  Louis.  I  became  quite  expert 
in  the  work,  but  later  on  had  some  trouble  with  the 
boss  and  quit.  I  was  indeed  fortunate,  being  the 
only  one  who  received  pay  for  labor  done,  as  the 
company  became  insolvent  and  none  of  the  others 
received  a  cent  of  wages.  There  was  no  recourse, 
as  the  hay  was  in  the  Indian  Territory  and  could  not 
be  held  for  amounts  due.  On  severing  my  connection 
with  Henderson,  I  returned  to  Chetopa.  There  I  met 
a  Mr.  Pancake,  who  owned  some  eight  hundred  head 
of  cattle,  which  he  had  driven  from  Texas,  and  who 
hired  me  as  a  herder.  Of  course,  in  this  work  it  was 


Page  31  HARD   KNOCKS 

necessary  for  me  to  ride  a  horse,  which  was  a  new 
experience.  The  horse  and  saddle  supplied  me,  I 
looked  on  with  some  misgivings,  as  I  dared  not  tell 
Mr.  Pancake  that  I  had  never  ridden  a  horse,  and 
waited  until  he  was  out  of  sight  before  attempting 
to  mount.  Although  it  was  but  twenty  miles  to  the 
herd,  I  believe  I  rode  twice  that  distance  before 
reaching  there.  I  made  the  resolve  that  if  I  wanted  to 
hold  that  job,  I  must  learn  to  ride,  and  I  did,  but 
w  sore  I  was  the  next  morning ! 


» 


I  shall  never  forget  the  first  night  I  was  sent  out 
on  guard.  In  those  days  we  stood  two  hours'  watch 
in  the  night,  riding  around  the  cattle  while  they  were 
"bedded"  down,  and  singing  to  them  most  of  the  time. 
My  saddle  horse  was  not  a  cow  pony,  but  an  Indian 
pony  which  Mr.  Pancake  had  purchased  in  the  Indian 
Territory.  After  I  had  ridden  around  the  cattle  for 
a  while,  I  began  to  doze.  Presently  1  looked  to  my 
right,  but  could  not  see  the  cattle.  The  night  was 
dark,  and  my  pony  had  strayed  away.  Had  he  been 
a  cow  pony,  he  would  have  stayed  with  the  herd,  as 
they  are  used  to  cattle.  I  tried  to  find  them,  but 
being  unsuccessful,  began  to  shout,  hoping  that  the 
boys  in  camp  would  hear  me.  I  rode  for  some  time, 
and  finally  concluded  that  I  was  lost.  I  stopped  my 
tired  pony  and  hobbled  him  with  the  bridle  rein,  as 
I  had  no  lariat.  Using  the  saddle  for  a  pillow,  and 
covering  myself  with  the  saddle  blanket,  I  attempted 
to  sleep,  but  without  success.  What  troubled  me  most 
was,  the  thought  that  I  had  the  boss1  gold  watch, 
which  he  loaned  to  each  herder  that  he  might  know 
the  time  to  call  the  relief.  I  was  sure  they  would 
miss  me  and  think  that  I  had  run  away  with  the  pony 
and  watch.  I  found  out  later  that  my  surmise  was 
correct. 

When  daylight  came,  I  saw  a  campfire  in  the 
distance.  Riding  over,  I  found  a  negro  cook  pre- 


HARDKNOCKS  Page  32 

paring  the  morning  meal  and  told  him  that  I  was 
looking  for  Pancake's  herd,  but  did  not  tell  him  I 
was  lost.  "Well,"  he  replied,  "you  are  a  long  way 
from  it.  They  are  camped  on  Pond  Creek,  eight 
miles  southeast  of  here."  After  taking  breakfast 
with  him,  I  started  for  the  herd,  and  arrived  there 
in  due  time.  Four  of  the  boys  were  out  looking  for 
me,  supposing  that  I  had  run  away  with  the  watch 
and  pony.  When  I  explained  the  situation  to  the 
boss,  he  blamed  the  Indian  pony  for  all  the  trouble. 
This  relieved  me  very  much. 

These  cattle  had  just  arrived  from  Texas  over  the 
Chisholm  trail  and  were  being  kept  Lere  to  rest  and 
fatten,  after  which  they  were  to  be  sold  and  shipped 
east  by  rail.  A  period  of  three  months  was  usually 
required  to  make  the  drive  from  Texas. 

I  had  been  with  Mr.  Pancake  about  a  month, 
when  a  man  named  Hamilton,  from  Arkansas  City, 
Kansas,  bought  two  hundred  head  of  stock  cattle  out 
of  the  herd,  and  employed  a  Mr.  Sutherland  to  help 
care  for  them.  Mr.  Sutherland  and  his  wife  camped 
near.  They  were  from  Texas  and  were  looking  for 
Government  land,  and  had  a  wagon  and  four  head  of 
horses. 

Mr.  Sutherland  engaged  me  to  go  with  him.  Ham- 
ilton, who  later  proved  to  be  a  perfect  devil,  bought 
a  pair  of  gentle  oxen  and  hitched  them  to  the  wagon. 
We  rode  the  horses  and  drove  the  cattle.  We  had 
not  been  out  many  days,  when  the  two  men  quarreled 
and  had  it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Sutherland,  Hamilton 
would  surely  have  been  killed,  as  Sutherland,  having 
a  violent  temper,  had  already  killed  two  men  in  Texas 
some  time  previously.  For  that  reason  he  had  been 
compelled  to  leave  there.  Three  nights  after  the 
trouble  between  Hamilton  and  Sutherland,  two  horse 
thieves  traveling  through  the  country,  plying  their 
vocation,  stole  our  horses  and  we  had  no  alternative 


Page  33 


HARD    KNOCKS 


but  to  follow  them  on  foot.  Sutherland  having  spent 
his  entire  life  on  the  frontier  of  Texas,  was  a  wonder- 
ful trailer,  and  by  signs  and  foot  prints,  with  which 
he  was  thoroughly  accustomed,  accomplished  what 
to  me  seemed  an  utter  impossibility.  Taking  with 
us  sufficient  food  to  provide  against  hunger,  we  walked 
for  three  days,  at  the  end  of  which  time  we  dis- 
covered our  horses  in  an  open  cornfield.  Sutherland 
ordered  me  to  keep  quiet,  suggesting  I  lie  down  in 
the  grass  and  rest.  I  asked  him,  "Why  not  go  and  get 
the  horses?"  He  replied:  "Do  as  I  tell  you.  I  will 
attend  to  the  horses."  This  I  did,  and  was  soon 
curled  up  in  the  grass  fast  asleep.  Suddenly  I  was 
awakened  by  two  rapid  gun  shots,  and  I  jumped  up 
and  ran  over  to  Sutherland,  who  said  to  me:  "Remain 
here,  and  I  will  go  over  and  get  the  horses;  those 
horse  thieves  will  never  bother  any  one  again." 
Sutherland  left  me  and  shortly  returned  with  the 
horses,  two  six-shooters,  a  Henry  rifle  (the  first  I 
had  ever  seen),  and  considerable  ammunition.  He 
presented  me  with  one  of  the  six-shooters.  I  was 
naturally  proud  of  this  six-shooter,  as  I  had  never 
had  one  of  my  own,  and  used  it  until  the  cartridge 
pistol  came  into  use.  We  then  returned  to  the  camp, 
where  we  were  welcomed  by  Hamilton  and  Mrs. 
Sutherland,  who  were  nearly  worn  out  by  herding  the 
cattle  on  foot  in  our  absence.  Seeing  the  extra  gun 
nd  six-shooters,  Hamilton  asked  Sutherland  where 
e  got  them.  Sutherland  replied  in  a  very  cool  and 
unconcerned  manner:  "Oh,  I  borrowed  them  from  a 
couple  of  friends  of  mine." 

From  that  time,  I  never  knew  Sutherland  to 
mention  the  matter  again,  but  am  satisfied  that  he 
killed  both  horse  thieves. 

You  must  bear  in  mind,  dear  reader,  that  these 
events  transpired  in  1866,  at  which  time  wrongs  and 
grievances,  fancied  and  real,  were  avenged  not  by 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  34 

a  court  of  justice,  but  by  the  principals,  in  their 
rough,  stern  way.  This  was  the  only  known  and 
recognized  law  in  that  country  at  that  time  and  for 
years  to  come. 

After  many  hardships,  we  arrived  at  Hamilton's 
ranch,  near  Arkansas  City.  Here  we  received  our 
wages,  and  after  another  quarrel  with  Hamilton,  we 
went  south,  to  what  was  then  known  as  the  Cherokee 
Strip. 


Page  35  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  CHEROKEE  STRIP— A  SQUATTER— OUSTED  BY 
UNCLE  SAM— UNWELCOME  VISITORS— THE  BANK 
ROBBERS— MY  HAIR  TRIGGER  RIFLE— WITH  THE 
OSAGE  INDIANS— BUCKETS  OF  REAL  SNAKES— BIG 
FIGHT  BETWEEN  LONG  AND  SHORT  HORNS,  AT 
NEWTON,  KANSAS. 

I  WILL  here  present  to  you  items  of  interest  per- 
taining to  the  Cherokee  Strip,  including  many 
stirring  incidents  which  have  from  time  to  time 
been  a  matter  of  public  record.    The  Strip  was 
a  piece  of  land  owned  by  the  Cherokee  Indians, 
about  one  hundred  miles  square.    It  adjoined  Howard 
County,  Kansas,  five  miles  south  of  the  town  of  Elgin. 
I  afterward  heard  that  Howard  County  had  been  sub- 
divided by  the  Government,  and  a  portion  of  it  called 
Elk  County. 

A  report  gained  currency  that  the  United  States 
Government  intended  buying  this  strip  and  allowing 
160  acres  to  each  person  having  homestead  or  squatter 
rights.  Sutherland  and  I  concluded  to  make  a  loca- 
tion, and  accordingly,  settled  ourselves  on  adjoining 
pieces  of  land,  but  lived  together.  In  the  meantime, 
the  Osage  Indians  sold  their  lands  in  Kansas  and 
bought  this  strip  from  the  Cherokees,  before  the 
Government  had  concluded  the  deal.  When  they  came 
to  take  possession  of  it,  they  discovered  that  it  had 
been  taken  up  by  the  white  people.  The  houses  which 
we  had  built  were  of  logs  cut  off  the  ridges,  where 
post  oak  grew  plentifully.  The  houses  were  without 
floors.  The  cooking  was  done  in  old-fashioned  fire- 
places. The  houses  were  few  and  far  between;  this 
being  particularly  true  of  the  section  where  we  lived. 

One  clear,  moonlight  night  we  were  suddenly  awak- 
ened by  a  loud  rapping.  I  opened  the  door,  while  Mr. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  36 

Sutherland  stood  just  to  one  side  with  his  Spencer 
carbine  ready  for  instant  use.  There  I  found  three 
mounted  men,  all  armed  to  the  teeth,  and  the  hardest 
looking  trio  I  ever  saw.  After  asking  who  lived  there, 
they  wanted  to  know  if  I  were  alone. 

"No,"  I  answered,  "Mr.  Sutherland  and  wife  are 
here."  Whereupon  Sutherland  stepped  out  from  his 
hiding  place. 

We  were  instructed  by  the  unwelcome  visitors  that 
they  wanted  something  to  eat  at  once.  I  was  ordered 
to  take  their  horses  to  the  corral  and  feed  them,  which 
I  did.  Although  it  was  nearly  midnight,  they  com- 
pelled Mrs.  Sutherland  to  get  up  and  prepare  them 
something  to  eat.  One  of  their  number,  with  gun  in 
hand,  remained  on  guard  on  the  outside  and  after  the 
other  two  had  eaten,  he  came  in  and  partook  of  the 
food.  When  all  had  eaten,  they  went  to  the  corral 
where  they  spent  the  remainder  of  the  night  sleeping, 
each  taking  turns  at  guard  duty.  At  daylight  they 
came  back  to  the  house  and  the  spokesman  asked  us 
if  we  had  any  money.  We  told  him  "No,"  as  we  had 
not  yet  raised  a  crop. 

"Well,"  he  said,  handing  me  three  twenty-dollar 
greenbacks,  "we  will  stake  you.  Give  the  man  and 
the  woman  one  each  and  keep  the  other  for  yourself." 

They  then  asked:  "Does  anyone  live  in  that 
house  yonder?"  pointing  to  a  house  about  two  miles 
distant. 

"Yes,"  I  replied;  "Mr.  Kruger  lives  there." 
"Has  he  any  horses?" 
"Yes,  four  head." 

Whereupon  they  saddled  up  and  left,  we  noticing 
that  their  horses  had  a  tired  and  jaded  appearance. 
In  about  two  hours,  Kruger  came  to  our  house  with 
his  head  bandaged  up,  and  said  that  one  of  the  men 


Page  37  HARDKNOCKS 

had  struck  him  with  a  six-shooter.  Kruger  was  a 
contrary  German,  and,  having  served  in  the  army, 
thought  that  he  was  king  of  the  earth.  He  probably 
became  saucy  when  they  wanted  to  trade  horses  with 
him.  They  accordingly  clubbed  him,  took  three  of 
his  best  animals,  and  left  their  own  in  place  of  them. 
Had  he  used  better  judgment  under  the  conditions,  he 
might  have  made  a  good  trade  with  them.  He  wanted 
us  to  go  with  him  and  try  to  recover  his  horses,  and 
became  very  angry  when  we  refused  to  do  so. 

Three  days  later  a  sheriff  with  three  deputies, 
in  pursuit  of  these  men,  arrived  at  pur  cabin  and 
made  inquiries  concerning  them.  We  informed  them 
that  three  men  had  stopped  over  night  with  us  and 
had  gone  on,  heading  west.  They  then  proceeded 
on  their  way  but  returned  the  following  day,  having 
evidently  given  up  the  chase,  and  informed  us  that 
the  men  they  were  hunting  were  outlaws  who  robbed 
a  bank  in  Parsons,  Kansas,  killing  two  men  who  had 
attempted  to  arrest  them.  The  sheriff  and  his  deputies 
remained  with  us  over  night,  departing  early  in  the 
morning.  We  were  careful  not  to  tell  them  that  the 
outlaws  had  given  us  any  money.  The  next  day 
Sutherland  and  I  went  to  town  and  bought  many 
necessaries  in  the  way  of  clothing,  groceries,  etc.  The 
storekeeper  expressed  considerable  surprise  when  we 
handed  him  our  greenbacks,  as  this  form  of  money  in 
that  country  was  very  scarce  in  those  days. 

One  bright  morning  not  long  after  these  events, 
Sutherland  and  I  went  together  on  a  deer  hunt;  he 
took  his  Spencer  carbine,  and  I  borrowed  a  heavy 
muzzle-loading  rifle,  equipped  with  a  set  trigger.  I 
was  now  to  have  my  first  experience  at  deer  hunting. 

Sutherland  proceeded  with  caution  along  the  top 
of  a  ridge  or  hill,  and  I  along  the  foot.  I  had  not 
gone  far  when  I  saw  three  deer  pawing  in  the  snow, 
looking  for  acorns.  They  had  not  seen  me,  and  I 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  38 

quickly  decided  that  here  was  the  chance  to  secure 
my  first  deer.  Unfortunately,  while  in  the  act  of 
taking  aim,  I  unconsciously  touched  the  set-trigger, 
resulting  in  the  load  going  off  in  the  ground  about 
ten  feet  from  me.  Hearing  the  shot,  Mr.  Sutherland 
ran  down  and  asked  me  if  I  had  hit  a  deer.  Not 
wanting  him  to  know  that  my  rifle  had  been  dis- 
charged accidentally,  I  replied:  "Yes,  I  hit  him." 
Whereupon  he  began  to  search,  but  no  deer  could  be 
found.  Mr.  Sutherland  scolded  me  severely  for  my 
poor  marksmanship,  and  we  returned  home  with- 
out any  game. 

In  the  meantime,  the  Osages  promptly  appealed 
to  the  government,  and  the  latter  notified  us  to 
vacate.  We  refused,  as  we  had  improved  the  land 
to  a  large  extent  by  building  rail  fences,  log  houses, 
etc.  The  government  then  sent  troops  and  six-mule 
teams  there  and  moved  us  across  the  line  into  Kansas, 
giving  the  Osages  peaceful  possession.  This  was,  of 
course,  just,  although  we  did  not  consider  it  so  at 
the  time. 

In  the  spring  of  1867  the  Osage  Indians  established 
their  new  agency  forty  miles  south  of  the  Kansas  line. 
The  location  selected  was  at  the  base  of  a  rocky  hill, 
which  was  infested  with  thousands  of  snakes.  While 
digging  a  well,  it  was  our  custom  every  morning 
to  lower  a  man  in  a  bucket  to  the  bottom.  This  was 
for  the  purpose  of  killing  snakes  that  had  fallen  into 
the  opening  during  the  night. 

There  were  twenty  white  men  employed  on  this 
agency,  and  the  agent  had  selected  an  Indian  by  the 
name  of  "Red  Feather,"  who  was  to  keep  us  supplied 
with  deer  meat.  One  day,  the  agency's  interpreter, 
who  was  a  white  man,  asked  Red  Feather  how  it 
happened  that  he  always  had  a  full  supply  of  venison. 
Red  Feather  replied :  "Some  time  I  catch  um  deer  and 
some  time  dog;  white  man  don't  know."  For  a  time 


Page  39  HARD   KNOCKS 

the  interpeter  kept  this  information  to  himself,  but 
finally,  it  being  too  rich  to  keep,  told  us.  Our  feelings 
can  be  better  imagined  than  described.  Suffice  to 
say  that  Red  Feather  had  his  contract  cancelled  on 
very  short  notice,  and  our  fondness  for  deer  meat 
vanished.  For  a  long  time  afterward,  we  could  not 
bear  the  mention  of  it. 

Finally,  becoming  tired  of  agency  life,  and  my 
roving  disposition  as  I  thought  requiring  a  change, 
I  started  for  the  new  town  of  Wichita,  Kansas,  which 
at  that  time  was  a  shipping  point  for  Texas  cattle. 
I  remained  there  but  a  short  time.  From  Wichita 
I  went  to  Newton,  Kansas — then  the  terminus  of  the 
Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe  Railroad,  and  one  of  the 
wildest  towns  in  the  state.  Newton  was  a  rendezvous 
for  gamblers  and  "sure-thing"  men.  There  were 
numerous  saloons  and  two  large  dance  halls,  a  few 
merchandise  stores  and  a  hotel.  At  this  particular 
time,  the  female  element  consisted  entirely  of  dance- 
hall  girls.  The  majority  of  the  male  population  were, 
what  were  then  termed,  gun-fighters ;  the  six-shooter 
being  the  only  recognized  law  there  at  that  time. 

Here  I  witnessed  one  of  the  most  noted  gun  fights 
that  ever  took  place  in  the  West.  The  fight  was 
between  Kansas  and  Texas  desperadoes.  It  occurred 
in  Tim  Shea's  dance-hall,  and  was  a  pre-arranged 
affair.  The  Texicans  had  visited  the  town  some  five 
days  prior  to  this  and  ran  things  to  suit  themselves. 
They  then  sent  word  that  they  were  coming  back  on 
a  certain  night  and  proposed  to  duplicate  the  act. 
Tim  Shea  gathered  together  about  thirty  Kansas 
gun-men  whom  he  knew  and  could  depend  upon.  True 
to  their  threat,  the  Texicans  arrived  on  the  appointed 
night.  Shea,  hearing  them  coming,  stationed  his  men 
at  the  rear  of  the  dance-hall ;  the  Texicans  riding  up 
to  the  front,  entered  the  door,  yelling  and  shooting 
off  their  guns.  Shea's  men  rushed  in  the  back  door, 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  40 

and  the  shooting  began.  The  lights  were  shot  out, 
all  was  darkness,  and  the  entire  thing  was  over  in 
fifteen  minutes.  When  the  lamps  were  relighted, 
fourteen  were  found  lying  dead  on  the  floor,  but  the 
number  of  wounded  will  never  be  known.  One  of 
the  dance-hall  girls  was  wounded  in  the  right  eye, 
and  ever  afterward  was  known  as  "One-eyed  Molly." 
Few,  if  any,  who  took  part  in  that  fight  are  alive 
today.  I  will  give  you  the  names  of  a  few  of  the 
prominent  ones:  Matt  Reilly,  Billy  Brooks,  Tim  Shea, 
Lushey  Bill,  Chris  Gilson,  Tom  Sherman,  Pony  Spen- 
cer. There  were  others  whose  names  I  cannot  recall. 

From  Newton,  I  followed  the  extension  of  the 
Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa  Fe  Railroad  to  the  next 
terminus,  which  was  Larnerd,  Kansas. 


Page  41  HARD   KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  SANTE  FE'S  EXTENSION  WEST— THE  KANSAS  PA- 
CIFIC MAN-KILLING  CELEBRETIES— "WILD  BILL"  OF 
HAYES  CITY— GREEN  RIVER  SMITH— PHIL  COLE'S 
FRUITLESS  TACTICS— KANSAS  BUFFALO— THE  BUF- 
FALO EXTERMINATED  IN  TWO  YEARS. 

THERE  was  probably  no  railroad  extension 
westward  ever  marked  by  more  lawlessness 
than  was  that  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  & 
Santa  Fe.  The  next  terminus  was  Dodge 
City,  two  miles  west  of  Fort  Dodge,  and  of 
which  I  will  speak  later. 

Leaving  Larnerd,  I  concluded  to  go  northward  to 
Hayes  City,  which  at  that  time  was  the  terminus  of 
the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad,  now  a  part  of  the  Union 
Pacific  system.  It  was  there  that  I  first  met  J.  B. 
Hickok,  better  known  as  "Wild  Bill."  Bill  was  mar- 
shal of  Hays  City. 

A  good  many  stories  have  been  written  from  time 
to  time  of  this  character,  Wild  Bill,  but  I  am  sure 
none  will  prove  of  more  interest  to  the  reader  than 
that  which  I  am  about  to  relate.  From  the  time  of 
our  first  meeting  in  Hayes  City,  my  remarks  are 
based  on  personal  knowledge  and  contact  with  him, 
dating  from  the  year  1868  when  ,we  first  met,  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  which  occurred  in  1876. 

Our  first  meeting  is  indelibly  impressed  upon  my 
mind.  I  had  been  dancing  all  night  in  one  of  the 
numerous  dance-halls  of  Hayes  City,  as  was  the 
almost  universal  custom  in  those  days  of  strangers 
looking  for  pleasure  and  entertainment.  Morning 
found  me  waiting  outside  for  one  of  the  dance-hall 
girls,  for  whom  I  had  formed  a  boyish  fancy.  The 
night's  entertainment  had  proved  costly  to  me,  my 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  42 

finances  having  dwindled  from  forty  dollars  to  a 
dollar  and  a  half.  This  extravagance  on  my  part 
had  been  noted  by  Wild  Bill,  unknown  to  me.  As  I 
stood  on  the  sidewalk,  deliberating,  someone  touched 
me  on  the  shoulder.  I  turned,  and  found  myself 
face  to  face  with  the  finest  looking  man  I  have  ever 
seen  or  ever  expect  to  see;  a  man  who  excited  my 
greatest  admiration.  He  was  about  six  feet,  two 
inches  in  height;  perfectly  formed  and  of  strong 
physique,  and  at  that  time  thirty-one  years  old.  He 
had  long  auburn  hair,  and  clear  blue  eyes ;  eyes  that 
showed  kindness  and  friendship  to  all,  except  the  evil 
doer,  to  whom  they  meant  the  reverse.  I  was  naturally 
drawn  toward  him,  and  instinctively  felt  that  no 
matter  how  tough  the  town  or  its  lawless  characters, 
I  had  met  a  friend.  He  asked  me  where  I  hailed  from 
and  I  replied:  "From  the  Santa  Fe  Construction."  He 
gave  me  some  very  wholesome  advice  regarding  spend- 
ing my  money  so  foolishly  and  asked  me  what  I  was 
doing  at  Hayes  City.  I  told  him  I  was  looking  for 
work.  After  a  long  pause,  during  which  he  appeared 
to  be  sizing  me  up,  he  asked  me  if  I  could  drive  a 
six-mule  team.  I  could  not,  and  frankly  told  him  so. 
He  evidently  thought  I  could  learn  quickly,  for  he 
took  me  into  a  near-by  saloon  and  taught  me  how  to 
tie  a  Government  hame-string.  The  Government  at 
that  time  used  a  leather  strap  with  a  knot  on  the  end 
of  it  instead  of  the  buckle  and  tongue  of  the  present 
day. 

The  next  morning  he  went  with  me  to  Fort  Hayes, 
two  and  a  half  miles  distant.  There  we  met  the 
corral  boss,  and  Wild  Bill  asked  him  to  put  me  to 
work,  stating  that  he  had  taken  a  fatherly  interest  in 
me  and  wanted  to  see  me  get  along  in  good  shape.  The 
corral  boss  asked  if  I  could  drive  a  six-mule  team.  To 
which  Bill  replied:  "Yes."  A  mule  collar  was  thrown 
on  the  ground  and  I  was  told  to  tie  the  names  on, 
which  I  did.  He  then  turned  to  Bill  with  a  broad 


Page  43  HARD   KNOCKS 

grin  and  remarked,  "You  have  drilled  him  well."  He 
then  told  me  to  remain  at  the  post  and  he  would  put  me 
to  work.  During  the  day  I  got  acquainted  with  some 
of  the  mule  drivers,  who  showed  me  how  to  harness 
a  six-mule  team.  The  term  used  for  mule  drivers  in 
those  days  was  "mule-skinners."  The  second  morning 
Bill  came  out  to  see  how  I  was  getting  along,  and  to 
his  astonishment  found  me  driving  a  six-mule  team. 
He  rode  by  my  side  for  some  distance,  giving  me 
pointers  that  afterward  were  very  useful  to  me.  I 
worked  at  this  post  for  six  months,  during  which  I 
saw  a  great  deal  of  Wild  Bill,  as  I  was  in  town  nearly 
every  night. 

I  will  now  give  you  this  wonderful  character's 
life  as  told  to  me  by  Bill  himself,  at  my  request  three 
months  previous  to  his  death  in  Deadwood. 

Wild  Bill  was  born  in  Homer,  Illinois,  in  1837. 
His  proper  name  was  James  Benson  Hickok.  He 
enlisted  in  the  Union  Army  in  1862,  and  became  a 
spy,  operating  principally  in  Missouri  at  the  time 
when  General  Price  of  the  Confederate  Army  was 
terrorizing  the  country  with  his  lawless  and  merciless 
deeds.  Bill's  duties  as  a  spy  necessitated  his  con- 
necting himself  with  General  Price's  command.  As  a 
result,  he  rendered  invaluable  services  to  the  Union. 
He  was  discharged  in  1865.  He  then  went  to  Spring- 
field, Missouri,  at  which  place  he  killed  his  first  man 
in  civil  life, — a  character  by  the  name  of  Dave  Tutt, 
who  had  served  in  the  Confederate  Army  and  who 
had  a  great  reputation  as  a  gun-fighter.  The  cir- 
cumstances of  this  killing,  which  occurred  on  July 
28th,  1865,  (and  were  verified  by  me  on  the  county 
records  of  Springfield),  were  as  follows: 

On  the  night  previous  to  July  28th,  1865,  Tutt  and 
Bill  were  engaged  in  a  game  of  cards,  in  which  Bill 
lost  all  of  his  ready  cash.  This  resulted  in  his  borrow- 
ing twenty  dollars  from  Tutt  and  handing  him  his 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  44 

watch  as  security,  the  loan  to  be  repaid  the  following- 
morning.  Bill  was  on  hand  at  the  appointed  time, 
but  when  he  made  a  tender  of  the  twenty  dollars,  Dave 
refused  to  return  the  watch,  claiming  that  the 
amount  borrowed  was  forty  dollars  instead  of  twenty. 
Bill's  indignation  was  further  increased  by  Dave's 
tantalizing  remark  that  at  twelve  o'clock  he  would 
walk  across  the  public  square  with  Bill's  watch  in  his 
pocket.  Bill's  reply  to  this  insult  was:  "Sometimes 
dead  men  wear  watches!"  Thus  the  matter  ended 
for  the  time  being.  Promptly  at  the  stroke  of  twelve 
o'clock  Dave  stepped  out  of  the  court  house,  Bill 
approaching  from  an  opposite  direction.  As  they 
spied  each  other,  their  hands  went  instinctively  to 
their  guns,  both  quickly  realizing  that  a  life  must 
pay  the  forfeit.  Bill's  aim  was  steady  and  true,  a 
bullet  through  Dave's  heart  being  the  result,  while 
Dave's  bullet  went  harmlessly  over  Bill's  head.  Thus 
had  Bill's  prophecy  come  true. 

Shortly  after  this  occurrence,  Bill  left  Springfield 
and  went  to  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  where  he  was  em- 
ployed by  Ben  Holladay,  who  at  that  time  was  oper- 
ating the  Overland  Stage  Line  from  St.  Louis  to 
San  Francisco.  Holladay  had  suffered  no  end  of  trouble 
from  gangs  of  desperadoes  who  were  continually 
holding  up  his  stage  coaches,  robbing  the  passengers 
and  making  off  with  the  Wells  Fargo  strong  box, 
which  was  carried  under  contract. 

Foremost  among  these  desperadoes  and  the  most 
feared  was  the  noted  McCanless  gang.  Bill  was  given 
instructions  to  exterminate  this  gang,  which  consisted 
of  nine  men.  He  was  asked  how  many  men  he  would 
require  to  assist  him  and  replied :  "None  I"  This  was 
certainly  a  good  evidence  of  the  man's  grit  and  pluck. 
Leaving  St.  Louis  single  handed,  he  made  his  initial 
move  by  going  to  Rock  Springs  station  on  the  Cim- 
aron  river,  arriving  at  about  four  o'clock  in  the 


Page  45  HARD   KNOCKS 

afternoon  and  assuming-  charge  immediately.  He  had 
been  in  his  new  quarters  but  one  hour  when  McCan- 
less,  the  leader  of  the  gang,  rode  up  and  asked  him 
what  he  was  doing  there.  Bill  replied  that  he  was  the 
"new  station  agent."  McCanless'  response  was,  that 
if  he  (Bill)  was  not  away  from  there  within  twenty- 
four  hours,  he  would  be  shipped  to  St.  Louis  in  a 
box.  Bill's  reply  was  that  when  they  returned,  they 
would  still  find  him  on  the  job,  for  he  had  come  to 
stay.  True  to  McCanless'  word,  the  gang  did  return 
on  the  following  afternoon  and  gave  bill  the  hardest 
battle  of  his  life.  Approaching  the  station,  in  which 
Bill  was  quartered,  they  opened  fire  on  him, — nine 
men  against  one.  They  certainly  were  hardly  pre- 
pared for  what  was  to  follow. 

In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  this,  Bill  had 
shot  four  of  them ;  but  at  this  critical  moment,  his 
gun  was  knocked  from  his  hand.  Seizing  a  knife  from 
the  belt  of  McCanless,  Bill  used  it  to  advantage. 
Again  good  fortune  seemed  to  favor  him,  for  regain- 
ing his  gun,  he  speedily  exterminated  the  remainder 
of  the  gang,  except  one,  who  had  gotten  some  distance 
away.  One  more  shot  from  Bill's  six-shooter,  and  the 
extermination  of  the  gang  was  complete. 

Bill  had  not  escaped  unharmed.  When  he  was 
found  by  a  stocktender  shortly  after  the  battle,  he 
was  lying  on  his  side  unconscious  and  not  a  charge  left 
in  his  gun.  He  had  received  three  bullet  and  two 
knife  wounds,  which  wounds  came  very  nearly  ending 
his  useful  career.  He  was  taken  immediately  to  St. 
Louis,  where  his  life  hung  by  a  thread  for  a  long 
time,  but  his  remarkable  vitality  finally  predominated. 
It  was,  however,  fully  a  year  before  he  was  restored 
to  his  full  mind  and  vigor. 

In  the  fall  of  1867,  Bill's  restless,  roving  disposition 
again  began  to  assert  itself.  He  left  St.  Louis;  this 
time  going  to  Camp  Supply  and  Fort  Sill  in  the 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  46 

Indian  Territory,  not  far  south  of  Fort  Dodge,  Kansas. 
At  Camp  Supply,  he  was  engaged  by  the  Government 
as  a  scout.  This  vocation  he  followed  for  about  a 
year,  which  was  brought  to  a  close  by  his  meeting 
General  Custer,  of  Indian  fame.  Custer  was  en  route 
to  Fort  Hayes  and  prevailed  on  Bill  to  go  with  him. 
While  scouting  out  of  Fort  Hayes,  the  town  of  Hayes 
City  sprung  up.  This  town,  like  all  other  terminus 
towns  of  early  days,  had  its  full  quota  of  the  law- 
less element  and  the  question  of  keeping  them  in  sub- 
jection was  a  hard  problem  to  solve.  This  particular 
town  got  so  bad  that  General  Custer  was  appealed  to 
for  military  assistance,  which  he  refused.  He  told 
the  citizens  that  he  had  a  scout  working  for  him  by 
the  name  of  Wild  Bill,  and  that  if  they  could  arrange 
with  him,  he  would  guarantee  that  the  lawless  element 
would  be  kept  under  control.  These  arrangements 
were  finally  made  and  Wild  Bill  became  the  first 
marshal  of  Hayes  City.  This  was  in  the  year  1868. 
A  marshal  of  those  days  was  very  different  from  what 
the  reader  today  might  naturally  suppose.  He '  was 
employed  by  the  better  class  to  maintain  peace  and 
order,  and  his  word  and  acts  were  the  recognized  law ; 
there  being  no  court  of  justice  in  existence  at  that 
time,  neither  had  a  marshal  any  power  invested  in 
him  by  the  Government. 

Bill  was  a  man  of  great  characteristics,  of  magnetic 
power,  and  probably  the  quickest  man  with  a  six- 
shooter  the  world  has  ever  produced.  He  was  never 
known  to  shoot  twice  at  the  same  man,  the  first  shot 
in  every  case  meaning  certain  death.  (This  brings  my 
story  of  Wild  Bill  down  to  the  time  when  we  first 
met). 

While  Bill  was  marshal  of  Hayes  City,  I  witnessed 
his  killing  of  seven  soldiers,  the  circumstances  of 
which  were  as  follows : 


Page  47  HARD   KNOCKS 

There  were  fifteen  soldiers  in  the  party,  one  of 
them  being  a  1st  Sergant,  with  whom  Bill  had  pre- 
viously had  trouble  at  Fort  Hayes.  This  had  resulted 
in  ill  feeling  between  the  two,  and  further  trouble 
was  certain.  Meeting  Bill  on  the  street  at  Hayes 
City,  the  sergeant  having  imbibed  very  freely  and 
throwing  caution  to  the  winds,  invited  Bill  to  put 
away  his  guns  and  engage  with  him  in  a  bare  fist 
fight.  To  this  Bill  readily  consented  and,  handing 
his  guns  to  his  friend,  Paddy  Walch,  a  saloon  keeper, 
Bill  and  the  sergeant  went  into  the  street  to  fight  it 
out.  Bill  knocked  the  sergeant  down  three  times. 
The  soldiers,  seeing  their  sergeant  getting  the  worst 
of  it,  rushed  in  on  Bill,  one  from  behind  placing  his 
knee  in  the  small  of  Bill's  back,  forcing  him  to  the 
ground,  the  others  in  front  kicking  and  striking  at 
him.  At  this  juncture  Walch,  fearing  that  Bill  would 
be  killed,  came  running  up,  handed  Bill  his  guns  and 
told  him  to  use  them  if  he  valued  his  life.  Without 
one  instant's  hesitation  Bill  seized  his  guns  and  com- 
menced a  rapid  fire,  killing  two  soldiers  back  of  him 
by  shooting  over  his  right  shoulder,  at  the  same  time 
killing  five  more  in  front  with  the  gun  in  his  left 
hand.  Naturally  this  created  great  excitement,  as 
killing  a  soldier,  even  by  a  town  marshal,  was  a  very 
serious  affair  those  days.  Bill,  knowing  that  General 
Custer  would  give  the  matter  a  very  thorough  in- 
vestigation, decided  to  leave  the  town  and  secrete  him- 
self in  the  hills  until  this  was  over. 

General  Custer  decided  that  Bill  was  justified  in 
the  killing  and  exonerated  him  from  all  blame.  Bill 
then  resumed  his  duties  as  marshal.  In  the  discharge 
of  his  duties  while  marshal  of  that  town,  he  had  a 
record  of  killing  twelve  men. 

In  the  spring  of  1869,  the  town  of  Abilene,  Kansas, 
sprang  up.  This  town  was  composed  of  an  entirely 
different  element  from  Hayes  City,  but  the  toughness 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  48 

predominated  to  a  still  larger  extent,  if  such  a  thing 
were  possible.  Abilene  was  the  rendezvous  of  cattle- 
men and  cowboys,  who  drove  large  herds  of  cattle 
from  Texas  to  Abilene,  from  where  they  were  shipped 
to  eastern  markets.  Naturally,  Abilene  became  the 
scene  of  the  wildest  disorder;  being  marked  by 
drunken  orgies,  carousals  without  number,  and  num- 
erous shooting  scrapes  that  were  the  natural  result. 

The  first  marshal  of  Abilene  was  one  Green  River 
Smith.  This  man,  fearless  and  endowed  with  plenty 
of  nerve,  and  having  a  very  good  opinion  of  himself, 
made  many  boasts;  one  of  which  was,  that  a  bullet 
had  never  been  moulded  that  could  kill  him.  A  short 
time  after  this  boast,  he  was  doomed  to  death,  but  in 
a  different  way  from  that  of  a  bullet. 

Taking  his  deputy  with  him,  he  left  Abilene  in 
search  of  two  horse  thieves  who  had  been  very 
troublesome  to  many.  The  thieves  were  located  in  a 
dug-out,  three  miles  from  town.  Smith  stationed 
his  deputy  at  the  entrance,  he  himself  going  inside. 
While  in  there,  his  deputy  for  some  unexplained  cause 
became  alarmed  and  disappeared.  One  of  the  horse 
thieves,  stepping  behind  Smith,  struck  him  in  the  head 
with  an  axe,  killing  him  and  decapitated  him.  The 
news  of  Smith's  death  at  the  hands  of  the  horse 
thief  quickly  reached  Abilene,  and  for  two  months 
afterward  the  town  was  completely  in  the  hands  of 
the  lawless  element;  in  fact,  the  state  of  affairs  had 
reached  such  a  stage  that  the  law-abiding  citizens  were 
seriously  contemplating  abandoning  the  town.  At  this 
critical  time,  a  man  who  had  just  arrived  from  Hayes 
City  remarked  that  if  they  could  but  secure  Wild 
Bill,  their  troubles  would  be  over.  This  was  met 
with  instant  favor  and  resulted  in  Wild  Bill  becoming 
their  next  marshal. 

Now,  dear  readers,  we  will  pause  for  a  moment  as 
I  wish  to  impress  more  vividly  on  your  mind  the 


Page  49  HARD   KNOCKS 

state  of  affairs  as  they  existed  at  this  time,  also  the 
Herculean  task  Wild  Bill  had  before  him.  Here  was 
a  town  that  for  two  months  had  been  in  the  hands  of 
a  drunken,  desperate,  frenzied  mob.  Many  men  even 
of  that  day  would  have  hesitated  had  they  been 
placed  in  the  position  of  Wild  Bill  and  allotted 
the  necessary  work  he  was  to  set  out  to  do,  in 
order  to  completely  change  the  conditions  of  the  town. 
I  went  to  Abilene  about  four  weeks  before  Bill  and 
remember  distinctly  the  day  he  arrived  there.  It  was 
about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  He  received  a 
warm  welcome  from  the  law-abiding  citizens.  The 
news  of  his  coming  had  preceded  him,  and  was  treated 
by  the  lawless  element  as  a  huge  joke.  They  had  had 
things  their  own  way  for  so  long  without  opposition, 
that  the  idea  of  a  single  man  subduing  them  was,  from 
their  point  of  view,  simply  ridiculous.  Bill  commenced 
business  immediately  upon  his  arrival.  His  first  order 
was  that  all  men  should  disarm.  Entering  one  of 
the  largest  saloons,  called  "The  Bullshead,"  Bill  en- 
countered a  number  of  cow-punchers  and  ordered  them 
to  disarm.  <  This  order  was  met  with  jeers  and  deris- 
ion ;  some  reaching  defiantly  for  their  guns.  Bill,  ever 
on  the  alert,  whipped  out  his  guns  and  his  rapid  fire 
quickly  snuffed  out  the  lives  of  eight  men.  This 
action  had  a  magic  effect,  and  the  manager  of  the 
saloon  (Ed  Norton)  was  for  a  time  kept  busy  receiv- 
ing the  guns  handed  him  by  those  who  'had  suddenly 
decided  that  discretion  was  the  better  part  of  valor. 
This  was  Bill's  first  official  act  in  Abilene ;  temporarily, 
it  had  a  depressing  effect.  For  a  short  time  they 
seemed  to  feel  that  they  had  more  than  met  their 
master.  As  this  feeling  gradually  wore  off,  a  number 
of  them  collected  in  a  dance-hall  where  they  concocted 
a  plan  to  assassinate  him.  This  was,  fortunately, 
overheard  by  a  man  named  Billy  Mullen,  who  had 
known  Bill  in  Hayes  City.  Mullen  quickly  made  his 
way  to  *  The  Bullshead  saloon  and  appraised  Bill  of 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  50 

the  plot.  Bill  went  immediately  to  the  dance-hall  and 
ordered  all  who  were  in  there  to  back  up  against  the 
wall  and  put  their  six-shooters  on  the  floor  at  their 
feet.  Meeting,  as  he  has  expected,  with  some  oppo- 
sition, and  being  a  man  who  took  no  chances,  Bill 
immediately  began  shooting,  killing  five  before  it  was 
fully  realized  that  he  was  indeed  their  master. 

I  will  narrate  one  more  episode  that  occurred  in 
this  town.  There  was  a  certain  character  who  went 
by  the  name  of  "Shang," — so  named  from  his  great 
height.  Shang  was  a  wealthy  Texas  cattle  man.  He 
employed  about  two  hundred  cow-punchers  or  cow- 
boys, as  they  are  called  now-a-days,  and  large  droves 
of  his  cattle  were  constantly  being  driven  in  to  Abil- 
ene. Shang's  power  among  this  certain  class,  owing 
to  his  immense  wealth,  was  supreme.  It  was  not 
unusual  for  him  to  have  an  enemy  killed  for  a  money 
consideration.  Shang  and  Bill  had  fallen  out,  as  the 
result  of  a  fancied  grievance,  and  Shang  decided  that 
Bill's  life  should  pay  the  forfeit. 

For  this  purpose  he  sent  to  Texas  for  a  man 
named  Phil  Cole,  a  noted  Texas  gun-fighter  with  a 
reputation  in  that  state,  equal  to  Bill's  in  Kansas. 
The  agreement  was  that  Cole  was  to  come  to  Abilene 
and  kill  Bill,  for  which  Shang  was  to  pay  him  one 
thousand  dollars.  On  Cole's  arrival  Shang  met  him 
on  the  outskirts  of  the  town,  taking  him  down  to  the 
corral  and  taking  the  precaution  to  have  Cole  remove 
his  six-shooters  and  spurs,  so  as  not  to  arouse  any 
suspicion.  I  do  not  believe  at  that  particular  time 
that  Bill  thought  for  a  moment  that  Shang  had  sent 
for  Cole.  Bill  and  Cole  had  never  seen  each  other, 
and  they  knew  each  other  by  reputation  only.  Shang's 
desire  was  to  point  out  Bill  to  Cole  without  arousing 
Bill's  ^suspicions.  Shang  and  Cole  left  the  corral 
together,  going  to  The  Bullshead  saloon,  where  he 
pointed  out  Bill  to  Cole.  Cole,  when  he  looked  this 


Page  51  HARDKNOCKS 

great  man  over,  and  having  heard  so  much  of  him 
through  Shang,  completely  lost  his  nerve.  But  know- 
ing what  he  was  brought  there  for  and  also  knowing 
that  he  must  make  good  to  Shang,  Cole  asked  Shang 
to  walk  back  down  to  the  corral  with  him;  where 
together  they  talked  the  matter  over.  Shang  finally 
went  home.  Cole,  after  Shang  had  left  him,  conceived 
the  idea  of  taking  a  dog  that  was  in  the  corral,  tying  a 
rope  around  its  neck,  arming  himself,  and  later  taking 
the  dog  to  The  Bullshead.  This  decided  upon,  he  started 
off  with  the  dog  at  about  half  past  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  On  reaching  the  saloon,  he  tied  the  dog 
to  the  door  latch,  and  stood  behind  an  awning  post 
in  front  of  the  door.  Knowing  that  Bill  was  on  the 
inside,  he  shot  the  dog,  expecting  Bill  to  run  out  in  the 
dark  to  see  what  the  shooting  was  about.  Bill  was  not 
to  be  caught  in  this  trap.  Instead  of  running  out, 
with  gun  in  hand  he  opened  the  door,  keeping  behind 
it  until  the  light  shone  from  the  saloon  into  the  street, 
when  he  saw  Cole  peeking  from  behind  the  awning 
post.  They  both  shot  at  the  same  time ;  Bill  a  fraction 
of  a  second  quicker  than  Cole  and  his  bullet  entering 
Cole's  heart,  killed  him  instantly.  Thus  ended  the 
career  of  the  greatest  gun-fighter  Texas  ever 
produced. 

While  Marshal  of  Abilene,  Bill  was  compelled  to 
kill  twenty-five  men,  but  he  had  been  successful  in  his 
mission  and  had  transformed  Abilene  into  a  peaceful, 
law-abiding  towr 

In  the  following  year,  1870,  the  cattle  business  be- 
gan to  spread  out  and  new  towns  were  springing  up, 
and  vieing  with  Abilene  as  a  cattle  center.  Among 
these  was  the  town  of  Ellsworth,  which  was  sorely  in 
need  of  a  fearless  marshal.  Bill  transferred  his  base 
of  operations  to  that  town,  but  did  not  meet  with  the 
opposition  he  h^d  met  with,  in  Abilene.  By  this  time, 
his  reputation  had  spread  far  and  wide  and  the  ma- 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  52 

jority  of  the  evil-doers  of  Ellsworth  looked  upon  him 
with  wholesome  respect,  and  the  killing  of  nine  men 
was  all  that  was  necessary  to  show  them  that  Bill  was 
master  of  the  situation.  After  acting  as  marshal  of 
Ellsworth  for  a  year,  Bill  decided  to  make  a  change, 
and  leaving  the  town  went  to  Kansas  City,  Missouri. 
Here  he  met  and  married  Mrs.  Lake,  the  widow  of  a 
prominent  circus-man. 

Texans  brought  many  race  ponies  with  them  to 
Abeline  and  raced  them  for  large  sums  of  money.  In 
those  days  the  distance  was  one-fourth  mile.  They 
started  them  with  their  rear  to  the  outcome,  and  at 
the  crack  of  a  six-shooter  fired  by  the  starter,  they 
whirled  on  their  hind  legs  and  ran  for  dear  life  to 
the  outcome.  I  have  seen  fifty  head  of  Texas  steers 
driven  to  the  race  and  bet  against  money  on  the  re- 
sult. Everyone  joined  in  these  poney  races.  Gamblers, 
saloonkeepers,  cattlemen,  cow  punchers,  dance  hall 
keepers  and  dance  hall  girls  all  bet  their  money  on  the 
results. 

In  the  Summer  of  1870  I  left  Abilene,  going  to 
Ellsworth,  where  I  remained  until  Fall;  finally  joining 
the  Toole  Brothers,  who  had  purchased  out  of  the  va- 
rious herds,  eight  hundred  head  of  young  stock  cattle, 
our  destination  being  Montana. 

They  intended  to  winter  the  cattle  on  the  Arkansas 
River,  about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  west 
of  Fort  Dodge.  We  arrived  there  in  due  time  without 
any  trouble,  except  from  the  buffalo,  which  stampeded 
the  cattle  two  or  three  times.  There  were  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  buffalo  in  the  country  at  this  time. 
After  locating  ourselves  on  our  winter's  range,  we 
built  two  dug-outs  in  which  to  live.  These  were  con- 
structed by  cutting  into  a  bank  or  hillside  to  the  size 
desired,  then  roofing  it  over  with  ridge  and  roof  poles, 
and  covering  all  over  with  dirt.  The  front  end  was 
built  up  with  sod,  an  opening  being  left  for  the  door. 


Page  53  HARDKNOCKS 

One  night  during  the  first  week  we  lived  in  the 
dug-out,  we  were  awakened  by  one  of  the  cattle  walk- 
ing over  the  roof.  Before  many  minutes  had  elapsed, 
she  fell  through  up  to  her  body  and  we  experienced 
a  great  difficulty  in  getting  her  out.  Had  she  fallen 
all  the  way  down,  or  through,  she  would  have  landed 
on  my  bunk,  with  probably  fatal  results  to  both  of  us. 

Our  down  river  dug-out  was  located  nine  miles  be- 
low. Two  of  the  boys  and  a  cook  took  care  of  that 
end  of  the  range.  They  rode  up  river  every  morning 
and  we  rode  down,  meeting  them  each  day  and  com- 
paring notes.  It  was  necessary  to  keep  the  cattle  on 
the  range;  we  also  kept  two  additional  men  whose 
duty  it  was  to  keep  the  buffalo  off  the  range;  they 
were  called  "buffalo  whoopers."  These  buffalo  were 
very  destructive  to  the  "buffalo  grass."  It  was  very 
short  and  curly;  always  green  near  the  ground  and 
very  fattening  for  stock.  The  buffalo  usually  re- 
mained in  the  hills  back  from  the  river,  where  they 
found  numerous  large  holes,  known  as  "buffalo  wal- 
lows." These  wallows  were  filled  with  water  from  the 
rains  and  melting  snow,  where  they  procured  their 
drinking  water.  During  the  severe  winters  these  holes 
would  freeze  over,  compelling  the  buffalo  to  go  to  the 
river  for  water. 

I  have  heard  many  controversies  regarding  the 
formation  of  these  holes  or  wallows,  and  will  here  ex- 
plain to  you  from  personal  knowledge  how  they  were 
made  and  why  called  buffalo  wallows: 

During  the  summer  months  the  buffalo  would 
travel  this  country  in  immense  herds  and  were  contin- 
ually attacked  by  an  insect  called  the  buffalo  gnat. 
These  gnats  would  work  their  way  down  through  the 
hair  into  the  hide  of  the  buffalo  and  cause  constant 
itching.  In  desperation,  the  buffalo  would  tear  up  the 
earth  with  his  horns  and  with  his  front  foot  throw 
the  loose  earth  over  his  body,  and  then  lie  down,  roll- 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  54 

ing  over  and  over  until  his  body  was  completely  cov- 
ered with  the  earth.  This  made  a  depression  in  the 
ground.  The  buffalo  would  then  rise  to  his  feet,  shak- 
ing his  body,  causing  great  clouds  of  dust  which  ex- 
terminated the  gnat.  This  same  performance  would 
be  gone  through  by  others  until  a  large,  deep  hole  was 
the  result ;  thus  the  name  of  "buffalo  wallow."  Thou- 
sands of  these  holes  were  to  be  found  on  the  prairie, 
and  were  all  formed  in  this  manner. 

It  is  wonderful  the  uses  that  were  made  of  these 
buffalo  wallows  after  the  buffalo  were  exterminated, 
as  many  a  tired  emigrant  wending  his  way  westward 
found  water  for  himself  and  stock ;  many  of  them  also 
using  these  holes  as  breast  works,  when  attacked  by 
Indians.  In  the  vicinity  of  these  holes  was  also  found 
a  vast  amount  of  offal  from  the  buffalo,  called  buffalo 
chips,  which  was  used  for  fuel  for  cooking  purposes. 
I,  myself,  have  eaten  many  a  good  meal  cooked  by  this 
kind  of  fuel. 

It  was  very  remarkable,  however,  that  one  never 
found  the  great  buffalo  herds  moving  any  direction 
but  south,  unless  when  they  were  scared,  when  they 
would  run  north  for  a  short  distance,  but  would 
eventually  resume  their  journey  south.  It  is  no  ex- 
aggeration to  say  that  at  times  I  have  stood  on 
heights  and  have  seen  hundreds  of  thousands  of  these 
animals  in  one  great  herd.  The  extermination  of 
these  vast  herds  was  completed  in  a  few  years. 

One  bright,  cold  winter  morning  we  were  in  the 
dug-out  and  saw  an  immense  herd  of  buffalo  coming 
to  the  river  for  water. 

"Young  has  never  killed  a  buffalo,"  said  Mr.  Toole, 
when  we  sighted  the  herd,  "and  here  is  his  chance. 
Let  him  take  the  first  shot."  I  took  an  old  Spencer 
carbine  and  secreted  myself  in  a  clump  of  willows  near 
the  river,,  in  sight  of  the  dug-out.  In  a  few  minutes 
on  came  the  herd  and  in  a  short  time  hundreds  of 


Page  55  HARDKNOCKS 

these  magnificent  animals  were  on  all  sides  of  -me. 
For  some  reason,  however,  they  did  not  see  or  scent 
me.  I  became  nervous  and  yelled  at  them.  In  a 
moment  everything  was  in  confusion — never  shall  I 
forget  that  grand  sight.  Every  buffalo  in  the  herd 
seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  danger  and  immediately 
stampeded  toward  the  hills.  One  old  bull  came  with- 
in two  feet  of  my  hiding  place.  Although  I  was  very 
much  frightened,  I  pointed  the  gun  at  him  and  pulled 
the  trigger.  I  then  made  a  run  for  the  dug-out  with- 
out waiting  to  see  the  result  of  my  shot,  completely 
forgetting  that  there  were  other  loads  in  the  magazine 
of  the  weapon.  The  buffalo  did  not  immediately  fall, 
although  I  was  sure  that  my  shot  had  struck  him. 
When  near  the  dug-out  I  saw  the  boys  looking  at  a 
point  back  of  me,  and  following  the  direction  of  their 
gaze  I  saw  the  buffalo  in  the  throes  of  death.  "Why 
didn't  you  take  another  shot  at  them?"  asked  Mr. 
Toole. 

"Because,"  I  replied,  straightening  up  as  proud  as 
a  peacock,  "one  shot  is  enough  for  a  green  hand." 
Later  on  I  became  quite  a  buffalo  hunter.  The  four 
months  that  I  remained  with  the  Toole  Brothers,  I 
killed  forty-six  of  these  animals.  Each  herder  carried 
a  gun  and  ammunition,  and  we  were  supposed  to  kill 
all  the  buffalo  possible ;  some  we  used  for  food,  but  our 
principal  revenue  was  from  their  hides.  The  prices 
were  three  dollars  and  ten  cents  for  bull  hides,  and 
two  dollars  and  ten  cents  for  cow  hides.  Mr.  Toole 
told  me  afterward  that  during  their  winter  stay  there, 
they  had  killed  and  sold  enough  hides  to  pay  the 
wages  and  expenses  of  the  men  for  the  entire  winter. 
The  almost  complete  extermination  of  the  buffalo 
was  caused  by  professional  hunters,  who  were  con- 
tinually killing  them  for  their  hides.  These  hides 
were  hauled  to  the  nearest  railroad  station,  where 
they  were  sold  and  later  on  shipped  to  England,  where 
they  were  made  into  belting  for  machinery.  Few 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  56 

were  made  into  buffalo  robes,  as  the  hunters  did  not 
have  the  time  to  tan  them. 

To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  money  made 
by  some  of  these  profession  hunters,  I  will  select 
one  man  whom  I  knew  well.  His  name  was  Kirt 
Jordan.  Kirt  had  three  four-horse  teams  and  twenty 
men  in  his  employ  and  was  one  of  the  most  successful 
hunters  at  this  time.  He  held  the  record,  having 
killed  a  hundred  buffalo  in  one  stand.  In  getting  a 
stand  of  buffalo,  the  hunter  must  crawl  up  unawares 
without  being  seen  or  scented.  Should  the  hunter  be 
fortunate  enough  not  to  be  seen  or  scented,  he  could 
kill  numbers  of  them  before  they  would  get  out  of 
gun-shot,  as  they  are  not  easily  frightened.  After 
quitting  the  Toole  Brothers,  I  went  skinning  buffalo 
for  Kirk  Jordan  and  was  the  first  to  suggest  and  put 
into  practical  operation  the  skinning  of  buffalo  by 
mule  power.  This  was  done  by  cutting  the  hide 
around  the  neck,  down  the  belly  and  up  the  legs, 
after  which  the  skin  was  started  a  little.  A  large 
sharp  steel  pin  was  then  driven  through  the  buffalo's 
nose  and  into  the  ground;  then  a  hole  was  cut  in 
the  back  part  of  the  hide  at  the  neck,  a  chain  hooked 
in  the  cut  and  by  means  of  a  collar,  hames,  traces  and 
single-tree,  with  which  the  mule  was  equipped,  the 
hide  was  pulled  off  the  buffalo  with  the  greatest  of 
ease.  Of  course,  by  this  operation  much  of  the  flesh 
adhered  to  the  hide,  but  the  market  value  of  the  latter 
was  not  affected  in  the  least.  After  the  hides  had 
been  staked  out  until  partly  dry,  they  were  loaded  on 
wagons,  which  were  equipped  with  a  rack  similar 
to  a  hay-rack,  also  using  a  binding  pole.  In  this 
way  a  great  many  hides  could  be  hauled  in  one  load. 
These  wagons  were  drawn  by  four  animals  to  the 
nearest  town  on  the  line  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka  & 
Santa  Fe  railroad,  and  sold  at  the  prices  previously 
mentioned.  Anyone  who  was  a  good  hunter  and  who 
had  an  outfit,  could  make  a  great  deal  of  money  in 


Page  57  HARD   KNOCKS 

this  business  as  long  as  it  lasted.  Kirk  Jordan  made 
thousands  of  dollars. 

Kirt  Jordan,  the  great  buffalo  hunter,  finally  went 
wrong,  and  became  a  horse  and  mule  thief.  The  U.  S. 
marshal  arrested  him  for  stealing  government  mules, 
tried  and  sentenced  him  to  Leavenworth  Government 
Prison  for  ten  years.  An  officer  and  two  men,  with 
Kirt  handcuffed,  started  for  Leavenworth,  Kirt  sit- 
ting in  the  seat  with  the  officer,  and  the  soldiers  sit- 
ting in  the  seat  at  his  back.  Kirt  requested  the  offi- 
cer to  unhandcuff  him  as  he  wished  to  wash  himself 
in  the  toilet.  The  officer  did  so,  when,  as  quick  as 
lightning,  he  grabbed  the  officer's  six-shooter  from 
his  scabard  and  shot  him  dead.  He  then  shot  one  of 
the  soldiers,  and  jumped  through  the  open  window  to 
the  ground,  lighting  on  his  head  and  breaking  his 
neck.  Poor  Kirt  was  a  good  fellow,  but,  like  many 
others,  after  his  occupation  as  a  buffalo  hunter  ended, 
he  could  not  resume  his  occupation  as  a  teamster,  and 
accordingly  went  bad. 

Billie  Brooks,  the  gun  man  of  Dodge  City  in  the 
early  seventies,  was  one  day  riding  on  the  construc- 
tion train  from  Dodge  City  to  Sergeant.  The  conduc- 
tor, coming  through  the  coach,  asked  him  for  his 
fare.  Brooks  replied  by  drawing  his  six-shooter,  say- 
ing, "I  travel  on  this."  The  conductor  passed  on. 
After  he  was  through  with  his  fare  collecting,  he  went 
forward  to  the  locomotive  and  instructed  the  engineer 
to  slow  down  at  a  certain  point.  Getting  his  shotgun, 
he  dropped  off  the  engine  and  caught  the  last  car,  in 
which  Brooks  was  seated.  Approaching  from  the 
back,  he  called  out,  "Brooks,  the  fare  to  Sergeant  is 
$2.75."  Brooks  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  seeing 
the  shotgun  pointed  at  him,  replied: 

"To  whom  do  I  pay  the  money?" 

Just  then  the  brakeman  stepped  in.  The  conduc- 
tor said,  "Pay  the  brakeman,  and  also  hand  him  your 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  58 

six-shooters,  and  when  you  arrive  at  Sergeant  the 
agent  there  will  return  them  to  you." 

Brooks  did  so.  Meeting  the  conductor  the  same 
night  in  the  dance  hall,  Brooks  said,  "Old  man,  you 
are  a  good  fellow  and  a  good  collector,  and  I  want  to 
be  your  friend."  Thus  the  matter  ended. 

Brooks  in  future  days  became  a  horse  and  mule 
thief,  and  was  chased  by  a  posse  to  a  dugout  near 
Wichita,  where  he  stood  the  posse  off  for  two  days. 
He  was  finally  induced  to  surrender  with  the  promise 
that  he  would  be  tried  by  law  in  Wichita.  He  was 
told  to  leave  his  guns  in  the  dugout  and  walk  out  un- 
armed. He  did  so,  and  was  mounted  on  a  horse  and 
taken  to  a  nearby  tree  and  hanged.  Thus  ended 
Brooks'  career  as  a  gun  man. 

One  year  after  the  Santa  Fe  railroad  had  been 
constructed  along  the  Arkansas  river,  there  came 
into  that  country  an  old  man  with  a  two-horse  team, 
who  quietly  began  the  gathering  of  buffalo  bones, 
hauling  them  to  the  railroad  and  piling  them  in  great 
heaps.  The  boys  all  laughed  at  him  and  dubbed  him 
"Old  Buffalo  Bones."  The  old  fellow  enjoyed  their 
joking  him  and  kept  on  with  his  gathering.  Later  he 
procured  another  team  and  sent  east  for  his  son  to 
drive  it.  The  following  year  this  man  had  many  great 
piles  of  bones  ready  for  shipment  east.  The  Santa 
Fe  railroad  being  anxious  to  load  their  empty  cars 
eastward,  gave  him  a  very  low  rate  and  laid  side- 
tracks to  the  piles.  The  records  at  Dodge  City  show 
that  this  "Old  Bones"  shipped  three  thousand  carloads 
to  Philadalphia,  where  they  were  used  in  sugar  re- 
fineries and  for  fertilizing  purposes.  This  old  man, 
at  whom  we  had  laughed,  made  a  great  fortune  in 
two  years. 

To  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  number  of  buffalo 
killed  in  that  country,  the  railroad  records  at  Dodge 


Page  59  HARD   KNOCKS 

City  show  that  two  million  buffalo  hides  were  shipped 
from  that  station  alone,  and  it  is  estimated  that  there 
were  twenty-million  buffalo  killed  between  the  bound- 
aries of  Montana  and  Texas. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  60 


CHAPTER  VII. 

STRENUOUS  PIONEER  LIFE  AT  FORT  DODGE— UNSUNG 
AND  UNHUNG  HEROES— BOOT  HILL  CEMETERY- 
PORTABLE  DANCE  HALLS— CARNIVAL  OF  MURDER 
—WORK  OF  THE  VIGILANTES— THE  FAITHFUL 
BULLDOG— HORRIBLE  PRACTICAL  JOKE  ON  THE 
BUFFALO  SKIN  ROBBER— "RUN,  DARCY!  RUN  FOR 
LIFE"— TRIBUTE  TO  THE  DANCE  HALL  GIRL. 

IN  the  early  spring  of  1871,  having  tired  of  the 
buffalo    skinning   business,    I    returned    to    the 
Atchison,  Topeka  &  Santa   Fe   extension,  that  I 
might  experience  frontier  life,  then  to  be  found  in 
all  its  glory.    I  went  over  to  Dodge  City,  then  the 
terminus.    The  town  was  two  miles  west  of  Fort  Dodge 
and  all  the  elements  of  frontier  life  were  there,  includ- 
ing many  saloons  and  three  large  dance  halls.  That  the 
town  was  rough,  goes    without    question.      Buffalo 
hunters  made  their  headquarters  here,  and  disposed 
of  their  hides  and  spent  their  money  lavishly. 

.  There  are  few  who  know,  and  it  is  difficult  to  con- 
ceive, how  hardened  men  can  become  when  in  such 
surroundings  as  existed  there.  My  experiences  in 
that  town  were  many  and  varied,  and  the  characters 
were  a  study  for  one  of  a  contemplative  turn  of  mind. 
Among  those  whom  I  now  recall  were  Billy  Brooks, 
of  Newton  fame ;  "Dog"  Kelly,  who  kept  a  large  saloon 
there  and  who  derived  his  nicname  "Dog"-  from  being 
a  large  owner  of  greyhounds,  which  the  sporting 
element  used  for  hunting  jack  rabbits.  They  bet  a 
great  deal  of  money  on  these  hounds  and  made  very 
fine  sport  of  it.  I  understand  that  this  character, 
Kelly,  is  still  alive  in  Dodge  City.  Other  characters, 
Pete  Hicks,  who  was  day  marshal;  his  brother  Bill, 
night  marshal,  and  both  of  whom  were  killed  there 
later  on,  and  Bat  Masterson,  who  is  now  living  in 


Page  61  HARD    KNOCKS 

New  York.  Others  were,  Lushy  Bill,  Ed.  Hurley, 
Fancy  Pat,  Tom  Sherman,  Mose  Walters,  Jim  Han- 
nafan,  Joe  Hunt,  George  Peacock,  and  many  whose 
names  I  have  forgotten.  At  this  particular  time  in 
the  west,  a  great  many  men  had  nicknames  and  one 
never  did  know  their  proper  names  and  cared  less. 

As  an  illustration  of  the  lawlessness  in  that  town : 
One  night  Ed.  Hurley  and  three  others  were  crossing 
from  the  main  town  to  the  dance-hall.  They  saw  a 
buffalo  hunter  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  street, 
yelling  at  the  top  of  his  voice :  "I  am  a  wolf,  it  is  my 

night  to  howl,  and  I  would  like  to  have  some 

stop  me." 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  asked  Hurley, 
walking  up  to  the  fellow. 

"I  am  a  wolf,"  was  the  reply;  "it  is  my  night  to 
howl  and  the  whole  bunch  of  you  can't  stop  me." 

Whereupon,  Hurley,  without  a  word  of  warning, 
shot  him  dead.  Hurley  then  kicked  him,  saying  as 
he  did  so:  "Now,  why  don't  you  howl?"  Hurley  then 
went  on  to  the  dance-hall,  singing  as  he  did  so.  As 
he  entered  the  door,  he  saw  a  man  named  McClelland 
talking,  to  a  dance-hall  girl  named  Nellie  Rivers.  This 
aroused  Hurley's  jealousy,  and  he  began  shooting  at 
McClelland;  the  latter  returning  the  fire,  killed  Hurley. 
McClelland  at  this  time  was  a  brakesman  on  the 
railroad,  but  after  this  episode,  he  left  the  job  and 
became  a  gun-fighter.  His  career  was  short,  how- 
ever, for  he  was  killed  by  a  desperado  named  "Scotty" 
in  Peacock's  saloon  just  one  week  after  he  killed 
Hurley.  After  the  killing,  McClelland  lay  on  the  bar 
room  floor  when  Nellie  Rivers,  who  had  heard  of  his 
death,  came  in  to  look  at  him.  Sitting  astride  of  his 
body,  folding  his  hands  over  his  breast,  she  cried 
"you  killed  my  Eddie!  You  killed  my  Eddie!"  meaning 
Hurley;  emphasizing  the  statement  each  time  by 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  62 

slapping  the  face  of  the  dead  man.     She  continued 
slapping  him  and  finally  had  to  be  pulled  away. 

McClelland  was  buried  the  next  morning  in  Boot 
Hill  cemetery,  the  name  "Boot  Hill'  being  acquired 
from  the  fact  that  all  who  were  buried  there  had  died 
with  their  boots  on.  The  one  exception  was  a  drunken 
painter  who  had  died  of  delerium  tremens.  This 
cemetery  is  still  a  landmark  of  early  days,  and  during 
the  six  months  that  I  lived  in  Dodge,  sixty-five  men 
were  buried  there,  all  having  died  "with  their  boots 
on." 

At  this  time  I  was  night  watchman  at  the  Govern- 
ment freight  shed,  situated  at  the  east, limit  of  the 
town.  Although,  I  will  confess,  instead  of  remaining 
on  duty  at  night  as  I  should  have  done,  I  spent  a 
great  portion  of  my  time  in  the  dance-halls.  One 
beautiful  moonlight  night,  I,  together  with  about  one 
hundred  others,  was  in  one  of  these  places,  when  a 
drunken  buffalo  hunter  stepped  in  at  the  door  and 
exclaiming,  "Oh,  what  a  field,"  began  shooting  over 
our  heads.  He  did  not  cease  shooting  until  he  had 
emptied  both  guns.  When  the  dance-hall  was  built, 
it  was  made  up  in  sections,  fastened  together  with 
hooks  and  staples,  so  that  when  the  towns  moved 
on  "farther  west,  the  hall  could  be  loaded  on  flat  cars 
and  set  up  again  at  the  next  terminus.  When  the 
drunken  hunter  began  shooting,  the  crowd  made  its 
escape  by  rushing  head-long  against  the  sides  of  the 
hall,  practically  knocking  the  structure  to  pieces.  We 
all  made  our  escape  and  as  no  one  was  hit,  it  is  my 
belief  that  he  shot  only  to  frighten  us.  The  citizens, 
however,  could  not  see  the  situation  in  that  light  and 
advocated  hanging,  as  the  best  remedy. 

They  probably  thought  that  one  might  as  well  be 
killed  as  almost  scared  to  death,  and  for  this  reason 
they  failed  to  see  the  point  of  the  joke  and  insisted  on 
hanging  him.  He  ran  up  into  one  of  the  canyons 


Page  63  HARDKNOCKS 

near  the  town,  but  was  caught  later  and  brought  back. 
He  was  tried  in  "Dog  Kelly's  saloon,  convicted  and 
taken  out  to  be  hanged.  He  broke  away  and  ran  for 
his  wagon,  which  was  on  the  edge  of  the  town,  and  as 
he  crawled  under  it,  he  was  shot  by  Pete  Hicks,  the 
marshal.  His  faithful  bulldog  was  tied  under  the 
wagon  and  when  one  of  the  men  reached  to  pull  the 
dead  body  put,  the  dog  seized  him  by  the  arm  and 
had  to  be  killed  before  he  would  let  go. 

One  of  the  closest  calls  I  ever  had  was  in  Dodge 
City.  I  was  in  "Handsome  Harry's"  saloon  one  day 
and  had  some  difficulty  with  a  cook  who  worked  in  the 
restaurant  next  door,  when  a  few  blows  were  ex- 
changed. He  went  away,  and  I  supposed  the  trouble 
was  over.  A  little  later  on,  I  was  standing  at  the 
bar  with  my  back  toward  the  entrance  of  the  saloon 
when  he  entered,  and  without  any  warning  took  two 
shots  at  me ;  neither  one  taking  effect.  I  being  -un- 
armed, one  of  the  crowd  caught  and  held  him  until 
I  could  get  my  gun,  which  happened  to  be  behind  the 
bar.  We  then  agreed  to  go  out  on  the  prairie  and 
settle  the  matter.  We  were  to  place  pur  backs  to- 
gether, walk  ten  paces  in  opposite  directions,  turn  and 
fire.  We  went  out,  but  before  either  of  us  could  do 
any  damage,  our  friends  interef ered  and  the  proceed- 
ings stopped.  It  is  probable  that  neither  of  us  re- 
gretted the  interference  very  much,  for  later  we  be- 
came warm  friends.  He  and  another  man  went  south 
a  few  weeks  later  to  sell  whiskey  to  the  Kiwa  Indians. 
Unfortunately,  arriving  in  their  country  while  they 
were  on  the  war  path,  it  resulted  in  the  cook  and 
his  partner  being  killed  by  this  tribe  and  all  their 
whiskey  being  confiscated. 

The  town  of  Dodge  City  soon  afterward  became 
so  tough  that  the  saloon  men  and  merchants  formed 
themselves  into  a  vigilance  committee  and  appointed 
Fancy  Pat  as  their  leader.  They  were  determined 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  64 

to  rid  the  town  of  all  undesirable  characters.  Equip- 
ping themselves  with  revolvers,  rifles  and  shot-guns, 
they  made  ready  for  the  slaughter.  Selecting  all  the 
tough  men  whom  they  wished  to  exterminate,  at  a 
given  signal  they  swooped  on  all  three  dance-halls 
and  began  shooting — and  what  a  slaughter.  Fourteen 
men  were  killed  and  were  left  lying  in  the  street  all 
night  where  they  fell.  I  recollect  the  name  of  only 
one  of  the  victims,  "Tex  Williams."  Tex  was  shot 
completely  to  pieces,  as  he  ran  out  of  the  front  door 
of  the  dance-hall.  He  was  a  ghastly  sight,  being 
riddled  from  head  to  foot.  I  was  told  later  that  even 
small  screws  were  picked  out  of  his  body.  I  do  not 
doubt  the  truth  of  this  assertion,  as  many  of  the 
men  used  small  screws  as  ammunition  for  their  shot- 
guns. *  At  the  time  of  the  killing,  I  was  standing  in 
a  saloon,  when  two  or  three  of  the  men,  whom  the 
Regulators  were  after,  ran  through  the  room  and 
secreted  themselves  in  the  coal  cellar.  The  Regulators 
came  in  shortly  and  asked  Frank  Pedrie,  the  bar- 
keeper, if  any  of  the  gang  were  hidden  thereabouts. 
Pedrie  replied  "No,"  when  they  took  a  drink  all  round, 
and  left  for  Sherman's  dance-hall.  They  then  collected 
all  the  dance-hall  girls,  who  had  run  away  screaming 
when  the  shooting  took  place.  One  of  the  dead  men 
lay  in  front  of  the  entrance  to  the  hall,  where  he  had 
dropped  when  shot. 

It  was  a  cold,  in  fact,  freezing  night,  and  as  he 
lay  there  with  wide  open  mouth,  his  eyes  set  in  death, 
and  his  body  entirely  covered  with  blood,  he  was  a 
sight  to  sicken  the  strongest.  One  of  the  dance-hall 
girls  tied  her  handkerchief  around  his  head  to  keep 
his-  mouth  closed,  when  one  of  the  Regulators,  who 
witnessed  this  humane  act,  struck  her  on  the  head 
with  his  six-shooter,  wounding  her  severely.  The 
dead  body  of  the  victim  lay  there  until  daylight,  while 
the  Regulators  enjoyed  themselves  dancing  and  drink- 
ing. It  was  an  awful  night  of  murder  and  carnage. 


CALAMITY  JANE 
The  great  female  character  of  Wyoming  from   1875   to   1906 


Page  65  HARD   KNOCKS 

I  say  murder,  for  most  all  the  Regulators  were  them- 
selves gun-fighters  as  well  as  businessmen,  and  many 
of  them  were  equally  as  bad  as  their  victims. 

The  morning  after  the  killing  they  employed  six 
carpenters,  who  made  seven  boxes  out  of  rough  lum- 
ber, putting  two  victims  in  each  box,  then  loading 
them  onto  two-horse  wagons.  The  procession  then 
started  for  Boot  Hill  cemetery — and  such  a  sight! 
I  shall  never  forget  it.  Most  everyone  in  town  turned 
out,  the  greatest  part  of  whom  were  the  Regulators, 
who  had  done  the  killing.  They  had  caroused  all  night, 
some  shooting  as  they  proceeded  up  the  hill;  others 
laughing,  and  others  swearing.  Each  man  linked  arms 
with  a  dance-hall  girl.  Finally  arriving  at  the  pre- 
pared graves,  they  lowered  each  box  and  made  all 
kinds  of  gestures  and  remarks. 

While  the  earth  was  shoveled  onto  the  boxes,  they 
circled  around,  dancing  like  a  lot  of  wild  Indians. 
One  of  them,  I  recollect,  remarked,  "Let  us  give 
them  each  a  flask  of  whiskey,  to  use  on  their  way  to 
hell."  Work  was  stopped  until  the  seven  flasks  of 
whiskey  were  procured  and  deposited  in  the  graves, 
when  all  returned  to  town,  yelling  and  laughing.  This 
ended  the  night  of  horror  in  Dodge  City,  Kansas. 

Shortly  after  this  occurrence  took  place,  complaint 
was  made  by  the  buffalo  hide  merchants  that  someone 
was  stealing  their  hides,  which  were  piled  up  in  the 
streets  in  front  of  their  stores.  Five  hundred  dollars 
reward  was  finally  offered  for  the  capture  of  the 
thieves.  I  was  asked  by  the  Hicks  Brothers  to  assist 
them  in  capturing  the  guilty  parties.  While  on  watch 
one  moonlight  night,  we  saw  a  man  getting  away 
with  two  hides  on  his  shoulder.  We  called  on  him  to 
halt,  but  instead  of  obeying  us,  he  dropped  the  hides 
and  ran.  We  took  a  shot  at  him  but  missed  and  he 
continued  running  toward  the  Arkansas  river,  and  we 
following  him.  When  he  had  run  into  the  water  up  to 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  66 

his  waist,  he  threw  up  his  hands  and  promised  to 
come  out  if  we  would  not  shoot.  On  his  return  to  the 
bank  we  discovered  that  it  was  Darcey,  one  of  the 
town's  old  drunks.  He  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go,  as 
he  was  only  trying  to  get  a  little  money  with  which 
to  buy  whiskey.  I  favored  letting  him  go  and  saying 
nothing  of  the  occurrence.  But  the  Hicks  Brothers 
wanted  that  five  hundred  dollars  blood  money,  and  in- 
sisted that  he  be  summarily  dealt  with.  We  took  him 
to  the  railroad  station  and  reported  the  capture  to 
the  merchants.  When  they  saw  who  it  was,  they 
decided  to  release  him.  Dog  Kelly,  however,  saw  an 
opportunity  for  a  practical  joke,  and  had  poor  old 
Darcey  brought  up  to  his  saloon  and  tried  for  the 
offense.  Of  course,  he  was  found  guilty ;  the  verdict 
was  that  he  should  be  hanged  to  a  telegraph  pole. 
The  old  man  begged  and  prayed  for  mercy,  but  with- 
out avail.  He  was  taken  up  the  railroad  track  and 
while  one  of  the  men  was  climbing  the  pole  to  arrange 
the  rope,  Kelly,  according  to  a  prearranged  plan, 
whispered  to  Darcey,  "Now  is  your  chance;  run  for 
your  life."  The  old  fellow  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  began  to  run  as  he  had  never  run  before. 
Suddenly  we  began  shooting  in  the  air  and  yelling 
"Stop  Darcey!  Stop!"  we  running  after  him.  Of 
course,  we  stopped  after  a  little  and  allowed  him  to 
escape.  He  probably  considered  it  the  closest  call  of 
his  life;  and  I  think,  if  alive,  he  is  running  yet,  as  he 
was  never  again  seen  in  that  vicinity. 

I  wish  to  make  special  mention  of  the  class  of 
dance-hall  girls  that  were  brought  to  Dodge  City  in 
early  days.  In  many  instances  they  were  girls  who 
had  been  well  raised,  but  who  were  inveigled  into 
that  tough  town  by  misrepresentation  on  the  part  of 
whom  we  would  term  today  "Whiteslavers."  After 
getting  them  to  Dodge,  they  would  put  them  in  dance- 
halls,  turning  them  over  to  gun-men  who  became  their 
lovers  and  by  whom  they  were  treated  in  nearly  all 


Page  67  HARDKNOCKS 

cases  most  cruelly.  Nellie  Rivers,  of  whom  I  have 
spoken,  was  well  educated  and  very  handsome,  and 
evidently  came  from  a  good  family.  Realizing  the 
unavoidable  position  in  which  she  was  placed  and  the 
hopelessness  of  ever  getting  back  to  her  former  home, 
she  became  a  great  hater  of  men  and  seemed  pos- 
sessed of  a  mania  for  having  them  killed  for  trivial 
reasons.  After  succeeding  in  being  the  cause  of 
having  five  killed,  she  was  considered  so  dangerous 
that  it  was  decided  to  hang  her.  Her  life  was  saved, 
however,  through  the  intervention  of  Fancy  Pat  and 
Dog  Kelly.  She  was  allowed  to  leave  town  with  the 
understanding  that  she  was  not  to  return.  She  was 
never  again  seen  in  her  old  haunts. 

Many  of  these  dance-hall  girls  had  rough  exteriors, 
which  covered  warm  hearts.  One  would  be  surprised 
at  the  sacrifices  and  attentions  they  would  devote  to 
the  sick  and  wounded.  I  have  known  many  cases 
where  they  would  quit  their  work  and  sit  up  with 
them,  devoting  tender  care,  and  not  asking  or  expect- 
ing anything  in  return.  I  shall  always  have  a  warm 
spot  in  my  heart  for  the  poor  unfortunate  dance-hall 
girls. 

It  is  not  generally  known  at  this  date  that  the 
dance  hall  girl  was  the  true  pioneer  woman  of  the 
West.  Few  of  them  in  the  seventies,  if  they  stood 
the  stormy  days,  married  good  men — cattle  men, 
merchandising  men,  miners,  etc.,  and  made  noble 
wives  and  mothers.  I  could  name  one  who  bore  two 
sons  and  one  daughter.  One  of  the  sons  later  repre- 
sented a  Middle  Western  state  in  the  U.  S.  Congress. 
After  the  dance  hall  girl  came  the  farmer  and  his  wife. 
Then  the  dance  hall  girl  disappeared,  her  occupation 
being  a  thing  of  the  past. 

It  is  a  true  saying  that  "music  hath  charms  to 
soothe  the  savage."  I  distinctly  remember  one  night 
in  Tom  Sherman's  dance-hall,  when  revelry  was  at  its 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  68 

height;  with  all  its  drinking,  cursing  and  swearing. 
The  revellers  were  at  the  bar,  each  accompanied  by 
his  girl,  when  suddenly  a  character  named  "Sims" 
the  violinist  of  the  dance-hall,  stringing  his  instru- 
ment to  a  high  key,  commenced  playing  in  a  masterly 
style,  the  old  familiar  tune  "Home,  Sweet  Home."  In 
a  moment  all  was  still,  many  holding  their  liquor 
glasses  in  their  hands,  their  heads  bowed  and  tears 
trickling  down  their  cheeks.  This  was  a  very  un- 
usual scene,  and  one  never  to  be  forgotten.  Suddenly, 
in  a  loud  tone  of  voice,  the  dance-hall  manager  or 
more  commonly  known  as  the  "Bouncer,"  shouted, 
"Get  your  partners  for  the  next  quadrille."  All  was 
forgotten;  the  music  started  up  and  the  wild  revelry 
again  resumed.  Such  was  life  in  the  west  in  early 
days.  A  few  words  of  explanation  regarding  gun- 
fighters  of  Dodge  City  and  other  frontier  towns. 
Take  such  men  as  Bat  Masterson :  he  was  the  soul  of 
honor  and  only  killed  when  it  was  necessary  to  pro- 
tect himself.  Luke  Short,  who  had  a  great  reputation 
as  a  gun-man,  followed  the  occupation  of  a  gambler 
and  killed  many  men.  Luke  was  a  fine  man,  with 
gentlemanly  instincts,  but  quick  tempered.  He  was 
considered  square  and  much  respected;  also  Wyat 
Erap,  who  had  considerable 'trouble  in  Arizona  in 
early  days,  and  killed  with  his  brothers  many  men 
in  that  country.  I  met  Wyat  in  Nome,  Alaska,  in 
1900  and  found  him  a  perfect  gentleman.  This  class 
of  men  didn't  kill  for  gain.  Another  class  of  gun- 
men who  were  desperadoes,  horse  thieves  and  road 
agents,  who  killed  for  gain.  This  class  were  entirely 
different  from  Masterson,  Short  and  Earp. 


Page  69  HARD    KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

MURDERS  FOR  MONEY— TWO  INNOCENT  MEN  SUFFER 
FOR  THE  CRIME— THE  FACTS  ONLY  RECENTLY 
TOLD— CATCHING  BUFFALO— OVER  TO  THE  UNION 
PACIFIC  RAILROAD  — WILD  BILL  AGAIN  — "RED 
PAT,"  THE  TEAMSTER,  WHO  STILL  LIVES. 

A  OTHER  tough  character  at  Dodge  City,  was 
"Kelly  the  Rake."  While  I  was  herding 
cattle  for  Toole  Brothers,  Kelly  and  another 
tough  denizen  named  Red  Johnson,  whom  I 
had  met  in  Wichita,  entered  the  employ  of  a 
man  named  Jack  (I  do  not  recollect  his  other  name) ; 
they  camped  at  our  upper  dug-out.  These  three  men, 
Kelly,  Johnson  and  Jack,  were  going  southward  for 
the  purpose  of  hunting  buffalo,  forming  a  partnership 
for  that  purpose.  Sometime  later  Johnson  and  Kelly 
returned  to  the  town  of  Sergeant,  on  the  Colorado- 
Kansas  state  line,  and  at  that  time  the  terminus 
of  the  A.  T.  &  S.  F.  Ry.  They  returned  with  a  big 
load  of  buffalo  hides  and  the  information  that  they 
had  bought  out  the  third  man,  Jack.  The  hides  were 
sold  to  Chris  Gillson,  after  which  Johnson  and  Kelly 
became  gloriously  drunk.  While  in  this  condition  they 
met  Clark  and  McClellan,  two  buffalo  skinners  who 
were  in  town  and  to  whom  they  imparted  the  infor- 
mation that  they,  Kelly  and  Johnson,  had  killed  Jack 
and  buried  him  in  the  sand  hills.  On  sobering  up 
the  next  day,  they  became  alarmed  lest  Clark  and 
McClellan  should  divulge  what  had  been  told  them. 
Determined  to  put  these  men  out  of  the  way,  if 
possible,  Kelly  and  Johnson  went  to  Chris  Gillson  and 
told  him  that  Clark  and  McClellan  were  planning  to 
kill  and  rob  him  that  night.  Gillson,  who  had  just 
received  a  large  sum  of  money  from  the  sale  of  a  lot 
of  hides,  was  very  much  alarmed  and  spent  the  night 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  70 

in  a  box  car  instead  of  in  his  tent.  The  next  morning 
Chris  and  I  were  standing  outside  his  tent,  talking, 
when  Clark  and  McClellan  came  along,  with  no 
thought  of  danger.  Chris,  who  had  a  doubled-barreled 
shotgun  in  his  hands,  emptied  one  barrel  of  the 
weapon  into  Clark,  killing  him  instantly.  He  then 
pursued  McClellan,  who  was  by  this  time  attempting 
to  get  away,  and  shot  him  down,  the  poor  fellow 
begging  all  the  time  for  mercy. 

The  reader  will  possibly  question  the  source  of 
my  information  regarding  this  affair.  I  did  not  come 
into  possession  of  the  facts  in  the  case  until  several 
years  later,  when  I  was  employed  as  traveling  pas- 
senger agent  for  the  Oregon  Railroad  &  Navigation 
Company,  and  on  one  occasion  had  to  go  to  St.  Paul, 
Minn.,  stopping  off  en  route  at  every  coupon  ticket 
office  on  the  line  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Railway. 
Shortly  after  leaving  Miles  City,  Montana,  I  went  into 
the  smoking  car.  There  I  noticed  a  pock-marked  man 
sitting  in  front  of  me  and  whose  face  seemed  familiar. 
Presently,  I  realized  who  he  was.  "How  are  you 
Chris?"  I  asked,  turning  to  him. 

"You  have  the  best  of  me/'  was  his  reply.  "What 
is  your  name  ?"  On  being  told  who  I  was,  he  showed 
great  delight,  and  together  we  spent  some  time  talk- 
ing over  the  old  days  on  the  A.  T.  &  S.  F. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  'Kelly  the  Rake'  in  your 
travels?"  he  asked.  I  told  him  no. 

"Well,"  he  continued,  "if  I  ever  meet  him,  he  will 
be  a  dead  man."  After  which  he  told  me  the  story 
narrated  above.  He  also  told  me  he  had  found  out 
in  the  intervening  time  that  McClellan  and  Clark  were 
innocent  of  any  intention  to  injure  him,  and  that 
Kelly  had  maliciously  told  him  this  story  for  his  own 
protection,  with  the  thought  in  mind  that  "dead  men 
tell  no  tales." 


Page  71  HARDKNOCKS 

Chris  was  on  his  way  to  Washington,  D.  C.,  to 
collect  some  Government  money  due  him  for  two 
years'  surveying  work  done  in  Alaska.  I  have  not 
seen  him  since  we  met  that  day. 

A  few  days  after  this  occurred  at  Sergeant,  four 
of  us  went  down  river  to  a  ranch  kept  by  a  man 
named  "Prairie  Dog  Dave,"  for  the  purpose  of  catch- 
ing buffalo  calves,  our  intention  being  to  ship  them 
east  by  rail.  Insofar  as  our  catching  the  calves  was 
concerned,  we  were  very  successful.  They  were 
caught  in  the  following  manner: 

Mounted  on  our  horses,  we  got  as  near  the  herd 
as  possible,  unseen,  then  suddenly  riding  after  them. 
The  cows  and  young  calves,  when  the  herd  was 
stampeded  would  naturally  drop  to  the  rear  and  the 
cows  would  remain  with  the  calves  until  closely 
pressed,  when  they  would  desert  them.  We  would 
then  jump  from  our  horses,  throw  the  calves  down 
and  tie  their  legs. 

At  ths  season  of  the  year,  the  calves  were  about 
two  months  old.  We  succeeded  in  catching  twenty 
head,  and  finally  hauled  them  to  the  ranch  by  wagon. 
However,  we  soon  discovered  that  we  could  not  tame 
them,  nor  could  we  get  them  to  eat,  so  out  of  pity 
we  let  them  go.  Before  doing  so,  however,  two  were 
drowned  in  a  spring  near  the  ranch.  We  had  picketed 
them  out,  taking  the  ends  of  a  lariat  and  fastening 
it  around  their  necks,  then  taking  the  middle  of  the 
lariat  and  attaching  it  to  a  picket  pin,  which  we  drove 
into  the  ground,  but  the  poor  little  fellows  became 
entangled  in  it  and  fell  into  the  spring,  where  they 
were  drowned.  Two  others  escaped  with  a  sixty  foot 
lariat,  which  we  never  recovered,  and  I  shall  always 
believe  that  someone  stole  the  lariat  and  allowed  the 
calves  to  get  away.  Our  venture  was  not  a  success. 
We  became  discouraged  and  gave  up  the  business. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  72 

Had  I  known  as  much  in  those  days  as  I  do  at  the 
present  time,  I  could  have  made  a  fortune  buying 
buffalo  robes,  trading  with  the  Indians,  who  had 
thousands  of  them  and  which  would  not  have  cost 
to  exceed  five  dollars  each  in  trade.  A  buffalo  robe 
today  is  worth  from  one  hundred  to  five  hundred 
dollars. 

I  left  this  section  of  the  country  in  the  fall 
of  1871,  going  to  Pueblo,  Colorado,  from  which  place 
I  went  to  Denver,  Colorado.  Here  I  worked  for  a 
short  time  and  then  went  to  Cheyenne,  Wyoming, — 
situated  on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad.  There  I  re- 
sumed my  old  occupation  as  a  "six-mule  skinner" 
for  the  Government,  driving  out  of  Camp  Carlin, 
which  was  then  the  Government  supply  station  for 
all  northern  posts.  It  was  located  between  Cheyenne 
and  Fort  D.  A.  Russell,  on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad. 
I  remained  there  for  about  a  year. 

One  night  in  Cheyenne  I  strolled  into  McDaniels' 
variety  show.  On  entering  the  door  I  spied  my  old 
friend  "Wild  Bill"  standing  with  his  back  to  the 
wall,  looking  on  at  a  faro  game.  He  did  not  look  very 
prosperous,  and  I  was  quite  sure  that  the  world  had 
been  treating  him  badly  since  I  had  last  seen  him, 
or  he  certainly  would  have  been  one  of  the  players. 
I  also  noticed  that  when  he  sat  down,  he  kept  the 
cases.  This  gave  him  an  opportunity  to  pick  up  any 
sleepers  that  might  be  left  on  any  dead  card  by  an 
inexperienced  player. 

On  seeing  me,  Bill  remarked  in  a  pleased  tone: 
"Hello,  Kid!  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Where  have  you 
been  for  the  last  few  years,  and  how  is  the  world 
treating  you?  ' 

I  told  him  what  I  had  been  doing  and  also  what 
I  was  doing  at  that  time.  He  finally  told  me  that  he 
was  broke. 


Page  73  HARD   KNOCKS 

This  particular  night,  a  man  named  Ed  O'Malley 
was  playing  the  game,  and  leaving  a  bet  on  the  jack, 
which  had  become  dead,  Bill  naturally  reached  over 
and  took  the  checks.  Later,  O'Malley,  missing  his 
checks,  inquired  of  the  dealer  what  became  of  his 
bet  on  the  jack.  The  dealer  did  not  answer  him,  but 
some  man  among  the  players  whispered  to  him  that 
Wild  Bill  took  it,  whereupon  O'Malley  rushed  up  to 
Bill,  and  with  a  string  of  expletives,  demanded  that 
Bill  replace  the  checks  on  the  table.  Bill  looked  up 
at  him,  saying,  "What  would  you  do  if  I  did  not 
replace  them?" 

O'Malley  replied,  "I  wouk}  cut  your  heart  out." 

Bill  smiled  and  then  said,  "Then  I  had  better 
replace  them;"  which  he  did.  This  O'Malley,  whose 
occupation  was  that  of  a  camp  cook,  was  a  fighting 
Irishman  and  had  killed  a  man  several  months  prior 
by  stabbing  him  with  a  carving  knife. 

There  are  many  persons  who  entertain  the  idea 
that  Wild  Bill  was  noisy  and  quarrelsome,  but  this 
impression  is  not  at  all  correct.  During  the  years  of 
my  acquaintance  with  him,  I  never  knew  him  to  pick 
a  quarrel,  but  have  known  him  to  stop  many  that 
might  have  ended  seriously. 

At  this  time  a  man  named  Jeff  Carr  was  marshal 
of  Cheyenne,  and  when  Bill  arrived  there  Carr  went 
to  him,  saying :  "You  can  remain  in  this  town  as  long 
as  you  wish  by  giving  me  your  word  of  honor  that 
you  will  not  carry  your  gun  on  your  person,  nor  get 
into  any  trouble  that  you  can  possibly  avoid."  Bill 
agreed  to  these  terms,  with  one  proviso  namely,  that 
he  be  allowed  to  put  his  gun  within  easy  reach  in  any 
house  that  he  might  be.  As  an  illustration,  when  he 
came  into  McDaniels*  theatre,  he  put  his  gun  behind 
the  bar. 

While  in  Cheyenne,  Bill  had  won  the  affections  of  a 
girl  whoes  lover  was  a  man  named  "Fighting  Tom" 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  74 

and  who  was  the  night  marshal  of  the  town.  Tom 
recognized  in  Bill  a  dangerous  rival  and  to  get  him  out 
of  the  way,  assumed  the  responsibility  of  ordering 
Bill  to  leave  town  within  twenty-four  hours. 

"Why  should  I  leave  town?"  Bill  asked.  "Further- 
more, by  whose  orders  are  you  attempting  to  run  me 
outr 

"By  order  of  Jeff  Carr,"  was  Tom's  reply.  With- 
out further  to  do,  Bill  went  up  to  Carr's  house  and 
asked  him  why  he  had  ordered  him  out  of  town. 
Carr  was  much  surprised  at  the  question,  and  said 
he  knew  nothing  about  the  matter.  Bill  then  told  Carr 
what  Fighting  Tom  had  said.  To  this  Carr  replied: 
"You  may  remain  in  this  town  as  long  as  you  please, 
so  long  as  you  keep  your  word  given  to  me."  Upon 
this  Bill  returned  to  the  variety  show  and  calling 
Tom  aside,  said  to  him:  "Tom  you  have  lied  to  me. 
Jeff  Carr  says  so  and  I  say  so.  Now  if  you  ever  look 
my  way  while  I  am  in  Cheyenne,  there  will  be  a 
vacancy  in  this  town  for  a  night  marshal."  Tom  made 
no  reply,  but  walked  away,  and  thus  ended  the  matter. 

Cheyenne  in  those  days  was  a  very  lively  town. 
The  Union  Pacific  had  their  railroad  shop  there.  Fort 
D.  A.  Russell  was  a  very  large  post,  having  a  great 
many  soldiers  in  it.  Camp  Carlin  was  also  a  large 
place,  and  a  great  many  teamsters  were  employed 
there.  All  the  freighting  to  northern  posts, — Fort 
Laramie,  Fort  Fetterman  and  others,  originated  from 
Cheyenne.  The  reader  can  imagine  what  pay  day 
meant  at  Fort  D.  A.  Russell,  where  at  least  one  thou- 
sand soldiers  were  paid  on  the  same  day ;  one  hundred 
teamsters  would  also  be  paid  at  Camp  Carlin.  In 
addition  to  this  was  the  railroad  employees'  pay  day. 
This  naturally  circulated  a  great  deal  of  money.  The 
town  had  many  saloons,  gambling  houses  and  dance- 
halls,  with  its  quota  of  gamblers  and  dance-hall  girls, 
and  I  assure  you  it  was  a  very  live  town.  Many  of  the 


Page  75  HARDKNOCKS 

merchants  and  business  men  were  ex-government 
teamsters  or  soldiers,  who  had  been  discharged  from 
the  army.  For  instance,  Mr.  H.  E.  Post  was  formerly 
a  teamster,  but  at  this  time  postmatser,  and  later 
represented  Cheyenne  in  United  States  congress. 

One  of  the  largest  saloons  in  Cheyenne  was  kept 
by  a  character  named  Red  Pat,— so  dubbed  because 
of  the  color  of  his  hair.  This  fellow  was  an  ex- 
teamster  and  his  saloon  was  the  great  resort  for 
the  mule-skinners.  While  in  his  place  we  would  spend 
our  money  like  drunken  sailors,  and  when  we  were 
broke,  he  would  give  us  a  few  dollars  and  tell  us 
to  go  hunt  another  job.  Pat  was  a  good  old  soul, 
but  a  bad  man  in  a  rough  and  tumble  fight.  I  learned 
recently  that  he  is  still  alive  and  doing  business  at 
the  same  old  location. 

To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  Cheyenne  on 
Government  pay-day,  the  citizens  would  send  all  kinds 
of  vehicles  out  to  the  Fort  and  Camp  Carlin,  taking 
us  into  town  free  of  charge.  Jeff  Carr,  the  marshal, 
would  deputize  twenty-five  extra  men  to  keep  some 
semblance  of  order.  They  were  not  severe,  how- 
ever, and  I  have  seen  them  when  a  couple  of  soldiers 
were  fighting,  keep  the  crowd  back  by  forming  a 
ring,  letting  the  contestants  fight  it  out.  Just  as  long 
as  the  soldiers  or  mule-skinners  had  money  to  spend, 
they  tolerated  them,  but  as  soon  as  their  money  was 
gone,  they  then  began  to  drive  them  out  of  town,  and 
in  some  cases,  clubbed  them  unmercifully.  We  went 
back  to  our  jobs,  swearing  that  next  pay-day  we 
would  not  go  into  Cheyenne,  but  we  would  invariably 
land  there  the  following  pay-day.  At  the  time  I  drove 
a  team  at  Camp  Carlin.  Our  superintendent  was  a 
man  named  Botsford,  of  whom  I  will  write  later  on. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  76 


CHAPTER  IX. 

ON  THE  CHUGWATER— DEAR  OLD  FORT  LARAMIE— A 
TEAMSTER  JOB  WITH  ROUGH  ATTACHMENTS— MY 
FIRST  SIOUX  — PLENTY  MORE  — TWENTY  MILES 
ALONE  AND  UNARMED— ON  WHITE  KIVER— RED 
CLOUD— LIBERALITY  EXPLAINED. 

IN  the  summer  of  1872,  I  quit  my  job  as  teamster 
and  went  to  the  ranch  of  Jack  Hunton,  located  on 
a  stream  called  the  Chugwater,  where  I  worked 
with  his  brother  Jim,  getting  out  fence  posts, 
about  two  miles  from  the  river,  at  a  place  called 
Goshen  Hole.     Some  two  years  after  this  the  Sioux 
Indians  killed  and  scalped  Jim  while  he  was  hunting 
for  stock.  After  quitting  Hunton,  I  went  to  Fort  Lar- 
amie.    There  I  applied  for  a  position  as  teamster,  but 
as  there  was  no  vacancy,  I  could  not  get  employment. 

1 1  wish  the  reader  to  understand  that  I  had  not  as 
yet  met  any  bad  wild  Indians.  However,  this  experi- 
ence came  to  me  before  I  had  been  in  Laramie  many 
days.  Hearing  that  Cuney  &  Coffee  wanted  a  team- 
ster at  their  ranch,  four  miles  up  the  Laramie  river, 
I  went  there  that  evening  and  applied  for  the  job. 
Cuney  informed  me  that  he  did  want  a  teamster.  He 
then  asked  me  to  have  a  drink,  and  after  talking  a 
while,  he  said:  "We  pay  forty  dollars  a  month  and 
board  to  drivers  of  our  four-mule  teams,  and  you  may 
go  to  work  tomorrow  morning.  Now  enjoy  yourself." 
I  informed  him  that  I  could  not  afford  to  blow  myself, 
as  my  money  was  limited.  "Drink  all  you  want ;"  was 
his  reply,  "there  are  no  charges  to  a  new-comer." 
I  looked  upon  his  open-heartedness  with  suspicion,  but 
took  a  few  drinks,  after  which  I  fell  asleep. 

Jack  Bowman,  the  bartender,  took  me  into  a  side 
room  filled  with  furs  of  all  descriptions  and  I  lay  there 
and  slept  until  Jack  wakened  me  about  daylight.  He 


Page  77  HARDKNOCKS 

then  gave  me  a  bottle  of  mustard  pickles  and  some 
crackers,  for  the.  purpose,  he  said,  of  settling  my 
stomach.  They  surely  did.  Jack  told  me  that  my 
team  was  hitched  up  outside  and  ready  to  start.  I 
thought  him  one  of  the  best  fellows  I  had  ever  met. 

"Now,"  said  Jack,  "you  are  to  take  this  load  of 
canned  goods  to  Mr.  Deere,  a  trader  on  White  River, 
two  hundred  miles  north  of  here.  This,"  he  added, 
handing  me  a  piece  of  paper,  on  which  was  written 
the  miles,  camps,  rivers,  etc.,  of  the  road,  "is  a 
memorandum  of  stopping  and  camping  places."  Off 
I  started,  all  alone — no  gun  or  ofher  means  of  pro- 
tection, only  food  for  the  mules  and  myself.  I  made 
my  noon  and  night  camps  without  any  trouble,  cooked 
my  supper  and  staked  out  the  mules,  after  which  I 
rolled  up  in  my  blankets  and  slept  like  a  log  for  the 
remainder  of  the  night. 

Next  morning  I  missed  the  mules,  and  later  found 
that  they  had  pulled  up  their  stakes  and  started  back 
home.  Immediately  after  breakfast,  I  went  back 
after  them  and  found  them  at  the  spring  where  I  had 
camped  the  noon  of  the  preceding  day.  Catching  one 
and  mounting  him,  I  drove  the  other  three  back  to 
my  wagon,  arriving  there  about  sundown.  There, 
standing  by  my  wagon,  and  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
was  a  sure-enough,  real,  live  Indian — flaming  colors, 
blanket,  moccasins  and  all.  He  was  the  genuine 
article;  the  first  real  wild  Indian  I  had  ever  seen.  He 
was  a  Sioux. 

"How,  how !"  was  his  salutation,  as  I  walked  up  to 
the  wagon. 

"How  are  you?"  I  replied.  Whereupon  he  made 
signs  indicating  that  he  wanted  me  to  cook  him  some 
supper,  which  I  did.  I  performed  all  the  work,  he 
making  no  move  to  help  me.  When  supper  was  over 
he  went  up  on  a  knoll  and  remained  there  until  dark, 
after  which  he  returned  and  got  into  bed  with  me. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  78 

As  I  was  all  alone,  I  was  certainly  glad  I  met  the 
Sioux  and  hoped  he  would  continue -the  journey  with 
me.  We  talked  together  for  some  time,  but  neither 
one  could  make  the  other  understand,  and  we  finally 
gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job. 

He  was  up  before  me  in  the  morning,  and  back  on 
that  knoll,  where  he  remained  until  breakfast  was 
ready.  When  the  meal  had  been  prepared,  he  came 
down  and  ate  with  me,  after  which  he  went  back  again 
and  took  his  station  on  the  knoll.  "You  are  a  whole 
lot  of  help  to  me,  you  are,  you  big,  lazy  loafer,"  was 
my  mental  comment. 

Presently  I  hitched  up  and  started,  when,  much  to 
my  delight,  he  crawled  up  onto  the  wagon,  as  though 
intending  to  accompany  me  on  my  journey.  He  then 
began  making  signs  which  I  interpreted  as  wanting  to 
know  whether  or  not  I  had  a  gun  in  the  wagon.  I 
shook  my  head,  at  which  he  seemed  much  surprised, 
and  inclined  to  doubt  my  word.  He  then  began  to 
search  the  wagon,  all  the  while  making  signs  about  the 
gun.  After  my  repeated  efforts  to  convince  him,  he 
seemed  satisfied  that  I  was  telling  the  truth  and  lay 
down  in  the  wagon. 

That  night  we  camped  again,  he,  as  usual,  going 
out  on  a  high  point  for  a  while.  Finally  coming  in 
and  sleeping  with  me  again.  This  program  was  re- 
peated every  day  for  five  days.  Just  before  sundown 
of  the  sixth  evening,  we  were  stopped  by  about  fifty 
or  sixty  of  the  wildest  looking  Indians  I  ever  saw, 
many  of  whom  had  not  enough  clothing  on  to  flag 
a  handcar.  My  Indian  friend,  who  was  in  the  wagon 
vath  me,  began  to  talk  Sioux  to  them  in  an  excited 
manner,  but,  of  course,  I  had  not  the  remotest  idea 
what  they  were  talking  about.  In  a  few  moments 
they  left  suddenly,  after  which  my  companion 
motioned  excitedly  for  me  to  go  on.  This  I  was  loath 
to  do,  as  we  were  about  to  go  into  camp  for  the  night, 


Page  79  HARDKNOCKS 

but  he  kept  making  signs  for  me  to  hurry  on,  at  the 
same  time  putting  his  hand  on  my  head,  strongly 
suggesting  the  scalp  act. 

I  thought  the  heathen  had  gone  crazy.  In  a 
minute  or  two  he  blurted  out,  "Pawnee  heap  shoot !" 
But  still  I  was  simpleton  enough  not  to  know  what 
he  meant.  However,  I  started  on  and  he  kept  me 
moving  until  midnight.  I  was  very  much  frightened 
by  his  actions,  as  I  hadn't  the  slightest  idea  why  he 
was  so  excited.  When  the  night  was  half  gone,  a 
number  of  camp  fires  loomed  up  in  the  distance  ahead, 
at  which  my  Indian  friend  seemed  much  relieved.  He 
then  left  me  suddenly,  without  any  ceremony.  Seeing 
a  haystack,  I  pulled  up  to  it,  where  I  unhitched  my 
tired  and  hungry  mules,  after  which  I  then  turned  in 
for  a  little  sleep. 

The  first  thing  I  heard  the  next  morning  was  a 
white  man  saying,  "young  feller,  if  you  don't  .watch 
your  harness  pretty  sharp,  you  won't  have  a  strap 
left  when  these  Indians  get  around  you.  They  will 
steal  every  inch  of  it."  I  stared  about  me  in  sur- 
prise, and  to  my  astonishment  saw  a  great  many 
Indian  lodges  and  hundreds  of  Indians,  including 
squaws  and  papooses.  "Is  this  Deere's  Trading  Post  ?" 
I  asked. 

"Yes,"  was  the  reply,  "this  is  Deere's  Trading 
Post,  for  the  Sioux  Indians,  at  the  Red  Cloud  Agency. 
Who  are  you,  and  where  are  YOU  from,  and  how  did 
you  get  here?"  On  being  informed  that  I  had  come 
from  Cuney  &  Coffee's  ranch,  he  manifested  great 
surprise.  "Where  are  the  other  teams  ?"  he  asked. 

"There  are  no  other  teams  that  I  know  of,"  was 
my  reply. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  came  alone 
from  the  ranch  of  Cuney  &  Coffee  to  this  place?" 
he  interrogated. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  80 

"Certainly;  my  only  companion  was  an  Indian 
whom  I  picked  up  on  the  road,  and  who  has  just  left 
me,  or  rather,  when  I  got  in  here  last  night." 

"Come  with  mef '  he  said.  And  he  took  me  into 
Deer's  store  near  by.  "Deere,  here  is  a  tenderfoot 
who  came  all  alone  from  Cuney  &  Coffee's  ranch  with 
your  load  of  canned  goods." 

"Great  Caesar!"  exclaimed  Deere.  "Haven't  you 
a  gun?" 

"No,"  I  replied. 

"Well,"  was  the  rejoiner,  "they  certainly  played 
you  a  dirty  trick  sending  you  here  all  alone,  and  the 
only  thing  that  saved  you  was  having  that  Indian 
with  you,  whom  you  picked  up."  Still,  I  could  not 
understand  .how  the  Indian  had  figured  in  my  safety. 
The  men  around  the  camp  tried  all  day  to  find  the 
Indian  who  rode  with  me,  but  did  not  succeed  in  doing 
so. 

I  was  quite  favorably  impressed  with  Red  Cloud 
Agency.  It  was  in  its  infancy  but  beginning  to  assume 
large  proportions.  The  surroundings  were  novel  to 
me  and  I  quickly  came  to  the  conclusion  that  if  I 
could  secure  work  here,  I  would  much  prefer  it  to 
my  present  job  with  Cuney  &  Coffee.  Accordingly, 
I  asked  Dr.  Seville,  who  was  the  agent,  if  he  could 
use  me  as  a  laborer.  He  replied,  "Yes,  but  you  must 
first  return  Cuney  &  Coffee's  team  to  them."  I  lost 
little  time  in  preparing  for  my  journey  back  to  Fort 
Laramie  and  was  taken  by  surprise  when  Ben  Tib- 
betts,  the  man  who  had  awakened  me  upon  my 
arrival,  asked  me  where  I  was  going.  I  told  him  and 
he  replied:  "You  fool.  Don't  you  know  that  by  going 
alone  you  would  never  reach  the  ranch?  Wait  here 
my  boy;  there  are  other  teams  going  very  soon  and 
the  men  will  not  only  be  company  for  you,  but  pro- 
tection too."  He  also  loaned  me  a  six-shooter,  which 
I  was  to  return  to  him  when  I  got  back  to  the  Agency. 


Page  81  HARDKNOCKS 

After  waiting  a  few  days,  I  left  in  company  with 
eight  other  teams,  two  of  which  belonged  to  the 
Agency  and  one  to  a  Mr.  Jones,  who  had  lived  among 
the  Sioux  for  years  and  who  was  well  acquainted 
with  their  habits  and  mode  of  life.  The  first  night 
out  we  camped  in  some  high  willows  on  the  bank  of 
a  stream  called  "Running  Water."  After  eating 
supper  we  were  sitting  around  the  campfire,  when 
suddenly  the  willows  began  to  crash,  and  much  to 
our  surprise  fifty  mounted  Indians  appeared  on  the 
scene.  My  first  thought  was  to  jump  away  from  the 
campfire.  This  I  did.  In  doing  so,  I  drew  my  six- 
shooter  and  when  I  came  to  my  senses,  as  I  had  been 
badly  frightened,  I  was  pointing  my  six-shooter  at  an 
Indian  who  was  mounted,  but  I  had  neglected  to  pull 
the  trigger.  I  am  glad  I  did  not  shoot,  as  we  soon 
ascertained  that  they  did  not  intend  to  harm  us.-  Mr. 
Jones  spoke  to  them  in  Sioux  and  was  told  that  they 
were  acting  as  an  escort  to  Joe  Bessnet,  a  half-breed, 
who  was  carrying  the  Government  mail  to  the  agency. 
In  a  little  while  Bessnet  showed  up,  accompanied  by 
more  Indians.  They  then  took  supper  and  went  their 
way,  singing  one  of  their  war  songs. 

In  our  party  was  a  young  man  named  Spencer, 
who  had  been  continually  boasting  of  his  bravery. 
After  the  Indians  were  gone  Spencer  was  missing, 
and  Jones  and  I  went  over  in  the  direction  of  the 
river  to  search  for  him.  We  found  he  had  secreted 
himself  on  a  small  island  in  the  river  and  was  badly 
frightened.  He  had  waded  almost  up  to  his  waist  in 
the  water  to  reach  the  island.  For  a  long  while  he 
refused  to  leave  the  island  and  come  back  to  the 
camp.  Jones  finally  convinced  him  that  there  was 
no  danger  and  he  waded  to  the  bank,  a  pitiful  looking 
sight.  Poor  fellow,  we  joked  him  unmercifully  the 
remainder  of  the  trip.  However,  had  the  Indians 
intended  doing  us  any  harm,  he  might  have  been  the 
only  one  to  escape. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  82 

Before  leaving-,  Tibbetts  instructed  me  to  remain 
at  Fort  Laramie  and  when  there  was  a  position  at  the 
Agency  he  would  send  me  word  by  the  agency  team- 
sters. 

I  got  back  to  Fort  Laramie  in  good  shape  and 
turned  the  team  over  to  Cuney  &  Coffee  and  was  paid 
off  at  the  rate  of  forty  dollars  a  month.  It  was  then 
that  I  learned  why  Bowman,  the  barkeeper,  was  so 
liberal  with  his  whiskey.  And  I  also  learned  that 
Mr.  Cuney  had  offered  as  high  as  two  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  to  the  man  who  would  take  that  load 
of  canned  goods  to  Deere's  store.  Old  timers  living 
in  that  country  and  knowing  the  dangers,  would  not 
attempt  the  trip  even  at  that  price.  Bowman's  object 
in  supplying  me  with  whiskey,  keeping  me  out  of  sight 
and  starting  me  off  so  early  in  the  morning-,  was  for 
the  purpose  of  not  having  me  meet  these  old  timers, 
who  would  in  all  probability  have  warned  me  of  the 
danger  of  the  undertaking. 

I  then  procured  a  position,  driving  a  six-mule  team 
for  the  Government  at  Fort  Laramie.  Here  I  remained 
until  November,  1873. 


Page  83  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  X. 

HISTORIC  HAPPENINGS  AT  AND  AROUND  FORT  LARA- 
MIE  PRIOR  TO  AND  DURING  MY  TIME  THERE- 
CUSTOMS  AND  HABITS  OF  ARMY  OFFICERS- 
FRAUDS  PERPETRATED— REMINISCENCES  OF 
EARLY  SETTLERS. 

I  WILL  here  dwell  briefly  on  the  habits  and  actions 
of  the  army  officers,  stationed  at  these  frontier 
posts. 
The  majority  of  them  were  heavy  gamblers, 
hard  drinkers,  and  at  times  brutal  in  the  ex- 
treme.   Their  gambling  was  with  citizens  who  had  the 
hay,  wood  and  beef  contracts  with  the  Government. 
If  the  officers  were  heavy  losers,  which  was  frequently 
the  case,  they  would  give  their  I.  0.  U.'s  in  settle- 
ment, but  which  they  never  intended  to  pay,  and  the 
citizen  never  dared  to  enforce  payment,  because,  on 
account  of  their  contracts,  they  were  to   a  certain 
extent  in  the  clutches  of  the  officers.     The  Inspection 
Board  was  composed  of  these  officers,  and  the  reader 
can   readily  understand   the   position  of  the   citizen 
contractor  with  the  officer. 

I  have  known  many  loads  of  hay  to  be  hauled  to 
Fort  Laramie,  which  had  the  night  before  arrival 
been  damped  with  buckets  of  water  and  many  shovels 
of  sand  to  increase  the  weight.  The  sand  and  water 
would  settle  through  the  hay  during  the  jar  of  the 
last  day's  drive.  The  Inspection  Officer  would  have 
it  probed  with  an  iron  rod  and  the  load  accepted  or 
rejected,  according  to  the  friendly  or  unfriendly  terms 
with  the  contractor. 

While  I  was  employed  at  Fort  Laramie  as  a 
teamster,  there  was  a  great  fraud  exposed  regarding 
approximately  three  acres  of  cord  wood.  In  the 
changing  of  quartermasters,  the  detection  of  this 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  84 

fraud  came  about.  The  new  quartermaster  discovered 
that  while  the  outside  ricks  of  wood  were  all  right, 
the  inside  ricks  in  numerous  cases  did  not  exist  at  all. 
The  deception  consisted  of  merely  laying  sticks  across 
the  intervening  space  to  each  alternate  rick,  leaving 
spaces  that  should  have  been  ricks  of  wood ;  thus  the 
Government  had  been  systematically  robbed  of  many 
thousands  of  dollars.  While  the  matter  was  hushed 
up,  I  noticed  from  that  time  on,  the  ricks  were  placed 
with  a  space  between  each  to  prevent  a  similar  re- 
occurrence. 

Frauds  of  all  descriptions  were  practiced  at  all  the 
frontier  posts,  even  the  teamsters  having  their  share 
of  the  spoils.  For  instance,  a  teamster  would  have 
an  arrangement  with  the  Quartermaster-Sergeant, 
who  had  charge  of  the  distribution  of  the  material 
used  by  teamsters.  The  teamster  would  cut  his  wagon 
sheet  into  four  parts,  one  of  which  he  would  take  to 
the  sergeant  for  which  he  would  receive  a  new  wagon 
sheet  in  place  of  the  quarter  portion;  this  sheet  he 
would  sell  to  citizen  freighters  for  five  dollars.  The 
freighter  would  cut  out  the  letters  "U.  S."  and  fix  it 
up  with  a  patch.  Of  course,  the  sergeant  received  his 
half  of  the  five  dollars. 

This  would  be  repeated  each  day  until  the  teamster 
had  received  four  new  wagon  sheets  for  his  old  one. 
Citizens  purchased  largely  from  Government  em- 
ployees in  this  way.  All  articles  had  a  standard  value. 
Bacon  was  worth  twenty-five  cents  per  pound ;  shelled 
corn,  two  dollars  per  sack ;  wall  tents,  fourteen  dollars 
each ;  canned  tomatoes,  fifty  cents  per  can ;  beans,  two 
dollars  per  sack,  etc.,  etc.  In  those  days  these  frauds 
were  not  looked  upon  as  a  crime.  If  the  fraud  was 
discovered,  the  guilty  ones  were  black-balled  and 
driven  from  the  reservation. 

I  will  cite  one  instance  of  brutality  which  is  on 
record  at  the  War  Department  in  Washington. 


Page  85  HARD   KNOCKS 

One  afternoon  I  was  in  close  proximity  to  the 
cavalry  stables,  when  I  heard  a  man  screaming.  Run- 
ning over  there,  I  saw  a  soldier  tied  up  by  the  thumbs, 
and  Captain  Mix,  of  M-Company,  Second  Cavalry 
standing  close  by,  ordering  his  first  sergeant  and  an- 
other soldier  to  pull  him  higher;  which  they  did,  until 
his  feet  were  clear  off  the  floor.  The  weight  being  so 
great,  the  man's  thumbs  were  pulled  from  the  sockets. 
The  officer  of  the  day,  hearing  the  man  yell,  ran  down 
to  him  and  seeing  his  condition  ordered  him  lowered 
down  and  removed  to  the  hospital,  afterward  placing 
Captain  Mix  under  arrest.  Later  on,  Mix  was  court- 
martialed,  severely  reprimanded,  but  acquitted,  his 
victim  having  in  the  meantime  deserted,  probably 
aided  by  some  bribe  from  Mix.  This  was  what  was 
termed,  "whitewashing."  However,  from  this  very 
act  some  benefit  was  derived,  as  the  War  Department 
at  Washington  issued  an  order  abolishing  corporal 
punishment  in  the  United  States  army. 

I  wish  to  impress  the  reader  very  forcibly  with  the 
importance  and  usefulness  of  old  Fort  Laramie.  This 
post  was  located  at  the  junction  of  the  Platte  and 
Laramie  rivers,  one  hundred  and  ten  miles  north  of 
Cheyenne,  Wyoming.  It  was  established  previous  to 
1849.  In  that  year  there  was  a  rush  of  "fortune 
hunters"  to  California  for  gold,  and  emigrants  hailed 
Fort  Laramie  as  a  haven  of  rest.  It  was  there  they 
received  a  warm  welcome  from  the  citizens,  composed 
mostly  of  trappers  and  hunters  from  the  Hudson  Bay 
company;  there  they  made  all  the  repairs  to  their 
outfits,  shod  their  horses  and  oxen,  and  there  was  not 
then  nor  is  there  today  an  emigrant  who  has  not  a 
word  of  praise  and  a  warm  spot  in  his  heart  for  dear 
old  Fort  Laramie. 

I  have  attended  reunions  of  pioneers  in  Oregon, 
and  it  is  surprising  how  many  of  these  old  people  in 
telling  of  their  trip  across  the  plains,  will  mention 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  86 

Fort  Laramie.  One  would  say,  "I  traded  two  milch 
cows  that  I  brought  all  the  way  from  Missouri,  for 
a  pair  of  horses  at  Fort  Laramie."  Another  would 
say,  "My  oldest  boy  was  born  at  Fort  Laramie;"  an- 
other, "John  Smith  was  married  to  Betsy  Brown  at 
Fort  Laramie,"  etc.,  etc. 

This  post  being  in  the  heart  of  the  Sioux  country, 
the  emigrants  were  furnished  with  military  escorts 
to  remain  with  them  until  they  were  well  beyond  the 
danger  zone.  It  is  a  great  shame  that  the  United 
States  Government  abandoned  this  post,  as  it  should 
have  remained  intact  as  a  great  historical  center,  on 
the  old  emigrant  trail.  *  It  is  now  owned  by  Jack 
Hunton;  most  of  the  old  buildings  have  been  torn 
down,  or  have  gone  to  rack  and  ruin.  Hunton  resides 
there,  and  I  understand  is  now  farming  the  ground 
that  was  formerly  the  post. 

This  man  Hunton  came  from  Virginia  and  settled 
in  Wyoming  in  1849  and  has  lived  there  all  these 
years.  I  met  his  brother,  Tom,  some  five  years  ago, 
who  informed  me  that  Jack  was  eighty  years  of  age, 
and  in  good  health.  He  also  told  me  that  Jack  kept 
a  diary  of  all  the  events  occurring  in  that  country, 
and  that  his  intention  was  to  publish  it  when  he 
arrived  at  the  age  of  ninety  years.  This  will  be  a 
very  valuable  book.  He  engaged  in  various  pursuits, 
from  a  pony  express  rider  to  a  large  government  con- 
tractor, freighter  and  stock  raiser.  He  is  well  educated, 
liberal  to  a  fault  and  has  many  friends,  and  is 
much  beloved  by  all  who  know  him  in  Wyoming. 

Another  character  and  old  timer,  who  is  still  alive 
at  the  ripe  old  age  of  eighty-eight,  is  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Hi  Kelly.  He  also  rode  pony  express  in  early 
days,  but  later  became  the  "Live  Stock  King"  of 
Wyoming,  owning  vast  herds  of  cattle  with  unlimited 
range  and  employing  large  numbers  of  men.  He 
furnished  most  of  the  beef  used  by  the  army  posts 


Page  87  HARD   KNOCKS 

and  became  very  wealthy.  Among  his  holdings  was 
a  very  noted  ranch  situated  half  way  between  Chey- 
enne and  Fort  Laramie.  This  was  known  as  the 
Chugwater  ranch,  being  located  on  a  river  called  Chug- 
water,  so  named  by  the  Indians  for  the  following 
reasons : 

In  the  early  days  when  the  buffalo  were  numerous, 
the  Indians  stampeded  a  large  herd  of  them,  which 
they  headed  for  a  bluff  two  hundred  feet  high  on  the 
bank  of  this  river.  Thousands  of  the  buffalo  went 
over  the  bluff,  landing  in  the  river,  making  a  noise  as 
they  struck  the  water— "Chug  Chug"  and  thus  the 
name  "Chugwater." 

It  is  a  matter  of  history  that  the  Indians  camped 
at  this  place  for  three  months,  skinning  the  buffalo, 
tanning  their  hides  and  drying  their  meat.  In  pass- 
ing there  on  our  way  to  Fort  Laramie,  many  a  time 
we  teamsters  have  walked  over  to  the  river  and  seen 
thousands  of  buffalo  heads  and  many  bones,  which 
pr6ves  that  the  slaughter  was  immense.  Kelly  finally 
disposed  of  his  holdings  to  a  Scotch  syndicate,  and  is 
now  residing  in  Denver,  Colorado.  Like  many  old 
timers,  Kelly  took  a  Sioux  squaw  for  his  wife,  white 
women  in  those  days  being  very  scarce.  Unlike  the 
majority  of  the  white  men,  he  married  his  squaw, 
raised  a  large  family  of  children,  educated  them  all, 
and  they  are  today  useful  members  of  society.  While 
I  am  writing  of  this  great,  good  man,  I  will  cite  one 
instance  of  his  wonderful  loyalty  to  his  friends. 

Jack  Hunton  had  received  a  Government  contract 
for  a  very  large  supply  of  beef  and  was  warmly  con- 
gratulated by  Kelly  and  others,  who  had  bid  for  the 
same  contract.  Hunton,  having  met  with  financial 
reverses,  was  in  a  quandry  and  stated  his  position  to 
Kelly,  who  said,  "Jack,  you  know  my  range  and  my 
cattle;  take  my  foreman  with  you,  and  select  what 
you  need.  When  you  get  paid  for  your  beef,  you  can 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  88 

then  pay  me  for  my  cattle."  This  was  done.  No 
written  obligation  was  necessary.  Hunton's  word  was 
sufficient.  How  many  men  are  there  of  today  who 
could  enjoy  the  same  trust  as  was  reposed  in  Jack 
Hunton? 

Another  character  was  Butcher  Phillips,  a  soldier 
at  Fort  Laramie,  who  acted  as  "post  butcher"  and 
who,  on  his  discharge  from  the  army,  engaged  in  the 
stock  business  in  a  small  way.  He  became  very 
wealthy,  owning  a  large  number  of  cattle.  Eventually 
he  became  a  heavy  beef  contractor  for  these  Govern- 
ment posts. 

There  was  also  a  Portugese  Philips,  who  had  a 
wonderful  history  in  that  country,  as  it  was  he  who 
carried  the  famous  dispatch  from  Fort  Phil  Kearney 
to  Fort  Laramie  in  the  year  1866,  announcing  to  the 
world  the  great  Phil  Kearney  massacre  by  the  Sioux. 
This  massacre  was  headed  by  the  great  Sioux  chief, 
Red  Cloud,  and  was  somew'hat  similar  to  the  Custer 
massacre.  However,  it  was  not  as  disastrous  as  far  as 
numbers  were  concerned,  there  being  about  one  hun- 
dred massacred. 

Phil  Kearney  was  a  very  isolated  post,  situated 
about  two  hundred  miles  northwest  of  Fort  Laramie. 
One  clear  and  very  cold  morning,  when  snow  covered 
the  ground  to  the  depth  of  six  inches,  the  Sioux 
by  ruse  inveigled  about  two-thirds  of  the  soldiers 
stationed  there  to  attack  them.  The  Sioux  retreating, 
this  body  of  troops  foolishly  followed  them  into  an 
ambush,  where  a  large  body  of  hidden  Sioux  attacked 
and  completely  annihilated  them,  not  a  man  escaping. 

This  left  the  post  with  but  few  soldiers,  but  with 
quite  a  number  of  women,  wives  of  the  officers  and 
soldiers.  The  Sioux,  knowing  these  conditions,  im- 
mediately surrounded  the  post  and  for  two  days  and 
nights  held  a  great  war  dance,  flaunting  the  scalps 
of  their  victims  where  they  could  plainly  be  seen  from 


Page  89  HARD   KNOCKS 

the  post.  The  commanding  officer,  realizing  the  great 
danger,  knew  that  their  only  hope  for  rescue  was  in 
getting  assistance  from  Fort  Laramie.  He  therefore 
called  for  a  volunteer  to  run  their  cordon  of  Indians 
with  a  dispatch. 

Portugese  Phillips,  who  was  an  ex-Hudson  Bay 
hunter  and  who  had  lived  for  many  years  among  the 
Sioux,  having  a  squaw  for  a  wife,  and  who  at  this 
time  was  the  post  interpreter,  volunteered  to  make 
the  attempt.  Records  show  that  at  this  time  the 
thermometer  registered  thirty-two  degrees  below 
zero. 

Phillips  prepared  to  start  off,  selecting  a  white 
horse  on  account  of  its  color  being  similar  to  the 
snow  and  not  as  easily  distinguished  as  a  dark  one. 
He  attached  a  sixty  foot  lariat  to  the  horse,  but 
knowing  that  horses  often  shook  themselves,  making 
considerable  noise,  if  saddled,  he  did  not  use  either 
saddle  or  bridle.  In  taking  this  precaution,  he  avoided 
attracting  the  attention  of  the  Indians. 

With  a  small  supply  of  hard  tack  and  dried  meat  in 
his  pockets,  Portugese  Phillips  left  the  post  at  mid- 
night on  his  perilous  journey.  He  crawled  on  his 
knees,  leading  his  horse, — he  being  sixty  feet  in  ad- 
vance— and  by  daylight  he  had  passed  safely  through 
the  Indian  lines.  Then  mounting  his  horse,  he  carried 
his  dispatch  to  the  commanding  officer.  His  hands, 
knees,  and  feet  were  badly  frozen,  but  he  refused  to 
remain  at  Fort  Laramie  and  insisted  on  returning  with 
the  troops,  stating  that  his  squaw  and  children  were 
among  those  in  danger.  He  was  put  in  an  ambulance 
and  placed  in  charge  of  two  army  physicians,  who 
saved  his  limbs. 

The  command  arrived  at  Fort  Kearney  just  in  the 
nick  of  time,  as  the  Indians  were  gradually  closing  in 
on  their  victims — when  seeing  the  large  number  of 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  90 

soldiers  coming  to  the  relief  of  the  post,  they  retreated 
and  the  post  was  saved.  Phillips,  who  proved  himself 
a  great  hero,  lies  today  in  an  unmarked  grave  some- 
where in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Laramie,  and  I  doubt 
very  much  whether  even  if  a  large  reward  were 
offered,  a  single  man  could  point  out  his  grave. 

Another  character  at  Fort  Laramie  during  my  time 
was  an  Irishman  named  Pat  Brophy.  Years  before 
I  knew  him,  he  had  crossed  the  Platte  river  to  the 
north  side  and  was  sitting  on  the  bank  fishing,  when 
five  young  Sioux  bucks  approached,  one  of  them  sud- 
denly shooting  him  in  the  abdomen.  Brophy  retain- 
ing his  senses,  knew  that  his  only  chance  lay  in  his 
feigning  he  was  dead,  which  he  did.  Submitting  to 
being  scalped  by  two  of  the  Indians  and  after  they 
had  disappeared,  swimming  across  the  river,  he 
crawled  out  on  the  south  side  and  lay  by  a  log  all  that 
afternoon  and  night,  and  was  found  there  more  dead 
than  alive,  by  two  soldiers  the  following  morning.  The 
soldiers  immediately  conveyed  him  to  the  hospital, 
where  he  recovered  from  his  wounds.  The  top  of  his 
head  from  where  the  scalp  was  removed,  partially 
healed,  but  up  to  the  time  of  his  death  was  a  running 
materated  sore.  The  post  physicians  asserted  that  in 
all  their  professional  experience,  they  had  never  known 
of  anyone  recovering  from  such  an  injury.  Their 
opinion  was  that  by  his  swimming  the  river  and  the 
cold  water  passing  through  the  wound,  this  kept  the 
wound  clean  and  allayed  the  .fever;  also,  that  his 
lying  in  the  open  air  all  night  was  beneficial  to  the 
wound.  Brophy  lived  in  this  condition  for  a  number 
of  years.  Imagine,  if  possible,  dear  reader,  the  fore- 
thought and  nerve  displayed  by  this  Irishman  under 
these  most  trying  circumstances ;  when  a  single  move, 
or  the  batting  of  an  eye,  would  have  betrayed  his 
wonderful  cunning  and  caused  his  instant  death. 

I  will  now  close  my  list  of  the  few  of  the  many  old 
characters  whom  I  knew  at  Fort  Laramie,  by  describ- 


Page  91  HARDKNOCKS 

ing  one  whom  I  considered  the  greatest  of  them  all, 
from  a  military  standpoint. 

This  was  Ordinance-Sergeant  Snyder.  Snyder 
came  to  this  post  when  it  was  established,  having 
served  in  the  Mexican  War.  He  was  eighty-six  years 
of  age  when  I  first  met  him  in  1873.  He  crossed  the 
plains  in  an  ox-wagon,  the  military  using  that  mode 
of  transportation  in  those  days.  Snyder  in  his  own 
estimation,  having  been  stationed  there  for  so  long 
a  time,  considered  himself  greater  than  the  command- 
ing officer,  and  was  humored  in  this  belief  by  the 
officers,  soldiers  and  citizens. 

He  was  a  disciplinarian  to  an  extreme  and  to  incur 
his  displeasure  was  very  detrimental  to  one,  as  it  was 
an  unwritten  law  that  Snyder  was  to  be  universally 
respected.  He  was  wounded  in  his  left  thigh  during 
the  Mexican  war,  which  caused  him  to  have  a  pro- 
nounced limp  when  walking.  He  always  displayed  six 
medals  on  his  left  breast.  These  had  been  presented 
to  him  by  the  Government  at  various  times  as  rewards 
for  deeds  of  valor,  and  he  was  decidedly  proud  of 
them.  When  meeting  Snyder,  citizens  as  well  as 
soldiers  were  expected  to  salute  him  in  regular  mil- 
itary style.  When  officers  approached  him,  Snyder 
invariably  stood  at  attention  and  saluted,  and  woe  be 
to  the  officers  who  did  not  return  the  salute,  for  he 
would  immediately  remind  them  of  their  military 
training  and  would  always  conclude  his  rebuff  with 
two  loud  coughs. 

In  addition  to  his  duties  as  an  Ordinance-Sergeant, 
Snyder  was  the  garrison  postmaster,  which  he  con- 
sidered a  very  responsible  position.  All  citizens  and 
soldiers  were  compelled  to  go  in  person  for  their 
mail  to  a  small  room  set  aside  as  a  post  office,  and 
unless  they  saluted  on  approaching  the  window,  he 
would  motion  them  aside,  telling  them  to  go  and 
discipline  themselves.  This  compelled  them  to  take 
their  places  at  the  end  of  the  line  and  again  await 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  92 

their  turn.  The  officers'  mail  was  delivered  by  him  in 
person,  and  was  carried  in  a  leather  bag — which  hung 
by  his  side,  showing  the  inscription  "Officers'  U.  S. 
Mail,  Sergeant  Snyder,  Postmaster."  His  first  call 
was  to  the  commanding  officers'  quarters,  and  then  in 
succession,  according  to  the  officer's  rank,  ending  with 
the  2nd-Lieutenant.  Should  any  officer  of  lesser  rank 
than  those  already  called  on,  being  ignorant  of  the  Ser- 
geant's custom,  accost  him  and  ask  for  his  mail,  the 
sergeant  would  salute  and  tell  him  that  he  would 
receive  his  mail  at  the  proper  time,  in  his  turn.  Army 
officers  occasionally  did  this  to  try  the  old  man,  but 
the  result  was  invariably  the  same. 

In  1889,  having  grown  very  old,  the  Government 
concluded  to  send  him  to  the  National  Soldiers'  Home. 
Being  informed  of  this,  Snyder  begged  piteously  to  be 
allowed  to  remain  at  Fort  Laramie  and  be  buried 
there.  The  Government  refused  his  request  and 
ordered  him  to  leave  for  Cheyenne  and  proceed  from 
there  by  rail,  to  the  Home.  Poor  Snyder  obeyed, 
saying,  "orders  are  orders,  and  I  never  disobeyed  one 
in  my  life."  But  when  they  drove  up  with  an  ambu- 
lance drawn  by  four  mules,  the  old  man  cried  like 
a  child  and  stated  that  he  had  "come  to  that  post  with 
an  ox-team"  and  requested  that  he  be  allowed  to 
depart  in  a  like  manner.  His  last  request  was  granted 
and  a  six-ox  team  yoked  to  an  old  wagon  was  secured. 
Snyder  and  his  belongings,  which  consisted  of  many 
relics  of  past  days,  were  put  into  the  wagon,  preceded 
by  the  post  band — the  wagon  surrounded  by  officers, 
according  to  their  rank,  and  every  soldier  in  the  post 
marching  in  the  rear.  Thus,  the  old  gentleman  was 
escorted  to  the  boundaries  of  the  reservation,  where 
the  band  played  a  final  tune  and  the  soldiers  fired  a 
farewell  salute.  A  suitable  escort  continued  with  him 
to  Cheyenne.  After  arriving  at  the  Home,  he  lived 
but  a  few  months.  Thus  ended  the  life  of  one  of  the 


Page  93  HARDKNOCKS 

greatest  military  characters  of  the  early  days  at  Fort 
Laramie. 

One  day  during  the  summer  of  1873,  at  about  sun- 
down, there  rode  into  Fort  Laramie,  a  young  girl 
of  about  eleven  years  of  age,  astride  a  spotted  Indian 
pony.  She  was  enveloped  in  an  Indian  blanket,  and 
for  a  time  was  thought  to  be  an  Indian  squaw.  In 
dismounting,  she  was  discovered  to  be  a  white  girl. 
A  soldier  took  her  to  the  commanding  officer,  but 
before  he  had  had  a  chance  to  question  her,  she  had 
fainted  away  from  exhaustion.  On  being  revived, 
she  informed  him  that  her  name  was  Lizze  Deering 
and  that  a  party  of  Sioux  Indians  had  killed  her  father 
and  mother,  some  miles  up  the  Platte  river,  and  that 
a  Sioux  squaw  had  given  her  the  pony  and  blanket  and 
directed  her  to  ride  to  the  post. 

The  commanding  officer  immediately  ordered  a 
company  of  cavalry  to  find  the  spot,  and  also  gave 
orders  for  an  ambulance  to  be  sent  along  to  bring 
the  bodies.  I  was  commissioned  to  drive  the  am- 
bulance. We  started  off  that  night  and  the  next 
morning  found  the  wagon  minus  the  horses.  In  the 
wagon  was  an  old  man  killed  and  scalped.  With  her 
hands  tied  to  the  rear  wheels  and  her  feet  tied  to 
stakes  driven  in  the  ground,  we  found  a  middle-aged 
woman.  The  Indians  had  abused  her  unspeakably, 
and  in  addition  had  removed  the  tongue  bolt  from 
the  wagon,  heated  it  red  hot  and  forced  it  through 
the  poor  woman's  abdomen,  the  same  coming  out 
above  her  left  hip.  The  officer  in  charge  made  notes 
of  the  existing  conditions,  ordered  the  bodies  removed 
to  the  ambulance,  and  trailing  the  wagon  behind,  we 
returned  to  Fort  Laramie.  The  young  girl  in  the 
meantime,  had  told  the  following  story: 

They  had  been  traveling  along  the  river  bank, 
slowly;  her  father  sitting  in  front  driving  the  team, 
and  she  and  her  mother  sitting  back  of  him  covered 
by  the  wagon  sheet.  Suddenly,  a  shot  was  heard 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  94 

A 

which  killed  her  father.  Immediately  three  young 
buck  Indians,  jumped  up  in  the  front  of  the  wagon, 
she  and  her  mother  quickly  jumping  out  from  the 
rear.  They  were  at  once  seized  by  three  other  Indians, 
and  tying  the  girl  to  a  cottonwood  tree  and  the  mother 
as  previously  described,  they  commenced  their  ill- 
treatment  of  the  elder  woman  and  thus  subjected  the 
young  girl  to  witness  the  horrible  torture  of  her 
mother. 

Suddenly,  there  appeared  a  young  squaw,  who 
compelled  the  Indians  to  release  her.  The  squaw 
ordered  the  Indians  away,  and  after  taking  the  horses 
and  all  articles  of  value,  they  left.  Quieting  the  child, 
the  squaw  gave  her  the  pony  and  blanket  and  started 
her  for  the  post.  This  was  the  first  known  instance 
of  the  kind  that  had  ever  occurred  among  the  Sioux, 
as  the  squaws  were  generally  known  to  be  more  vicious 
with  a  white  person,  and  particularly  with  one  of  their 
own  sex. 

No  one  in  that  country  could  understand  the 
squaw's  reason  for  treating  the  young  girl  so  kindly. 
Later  on,  the  commanding  officer,  on  inquiry  through 
the  post  interpreter  who  was  a  squaw-man,  learned 
that  this  young  Indian  girl  was  the  daughter  of  a 
chief  and  that  she  had  used  her  power  to  compel  these 
young  bucks  to  release  this  girl,  but  no  one  knows  to 
this  day  what  prompted  her  to  do  so.  It  is  possible 
that  the  post  interpreter's  squaw  knew,  but  -if  she 
did,  she  never  made  it  known.  Perhaps  it  was  sisterly 
instinct,  or  perhaps  an  act  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
that  made  her  deviate  from  the  cruel  Indian  custom 
and  perform  an  act  of  mercy. 

The  Deering  family  were  from  Pike  county,  Mis- 
souri, and  their  destination  was  Oregon.  This  young 
girl  remained  in  Fort  Laramie  for  some  time,  but  was 
finally  located  by  her  uncle,  who  took  her  back  to 
Missouri. 


Page  95  HARDKNOCKS 

During  the  conversation  with  Tom  Hunton  some 
years  ago,  I  alluded  to  this  massacre.  He  told  me 
that  on  the  very  spot  where  that  wagon  stood,  a  stone 
monument  had  been  erected  by  the  women  of  Wy- 
oming, with  an  appropriate  inscription  of  the  details 
of  the  massacre.  In  addition  to  this,  they  also  pre- 
sented to  the  Chief's  daughter,  who  is  now  an  old 
woman,  living  at  Pine  Ridge  Agency,  a  medal  made 
from  gold  mined  in  Wyoming.  On  one  side  of  the 
medal  is  an  engraving  of  the  wagon  and  on  the  re- 
verse side,  suitable  words  of  explanation.  Tom  also 
informed  me  that  she  valued  the  medal  very  highly 
and  wears  it  continually. 

In  1867,  prior  to  my  time  in  Wyoming,  the  Gov- 
ernment issued  to  the  troops  at  Fort  Phil  Kearney, 
a  breech-loading  gun,  called  the  Spencer  carbine,  the 
first  of  the  kind  used  in  that  particular  part  of  the 
country.  They  being  out  of  wood  at  the  post,  the 
commanding  officer  detailed  twenty-five  six-mule 
teams  to  haul  a  fresh  supply.  The  wood  was  at  a 
point  twenty  miles  distant  from  the  post.  He  also 
furnished  an  escort  of  fifty  infantry  soldiers,  as  the 
Sioux  were  very  dangerous,  having  the  year  pre- 
viously committed  a  massacre  at  that  post.  The  In- 
dians knew  nothing  of  these  repeating  guns,  and  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  escort  was  well  aware  of 
this  fact. 

The  teams  had  not  proceeded  far  on  their  mission 
when  they  were  attacked  by  a  large  body  of  Sioux. 
The  officer  corraled  the  teams  and  instructed  the  men 
not  to  fire  until  they  could  see  the  white  of  the  In- 
dians' eyes  and  when  he  gave  the  order  to  fire,  to 
pump  it  in  fast.  The  Indians  were  in  the  habit  of 
forcing  fire,  and  then  charging,  thinking  the  troops 
were  armed  with  the  old  muzzle-loading  guns.  Finally 
the  officer  gave  the  command  to  fire.  After  the  first 
volley,  the  Indians  charged  in  a  body;  and  such  a 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  96 

surprise  they  received,  resulting  in  some  eighty  being 
killed,  which  taught  them  a  lesson  for  future  con- 
sideration. Prior  to  making  this  attack,  they  had 
stationed  their  squaws  and  families  on  a  high  hill, 
expecting  to  witness  another  Phil  Kearney  massacre; 
but  after  receiving  this  warm  reception,  they  and  their 
squaws  made  a  very  hasty  retreat — less  in  number, 
but  wiser  in  experience.  And  for  many  years  these 
Indians  had  a  great  horror  of  the  "foot  soldiers" — as 
they  termed  the  infantry. 


Page  97  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XL 

GREAT  POWER  INVESTED  IN  COMMANDING  OFFICERS 
OF  THE  FRONTIER  POSTS— LIEUTENANT  ROBINSON 
KILLED  BY  INDIANS— A  NUT  FOR  SCIENTISTS  TO 
CRACK— THE  BARREN  SPOT  ON  THE  PRAIRIE- 
AMUSING  INCIDENTS. 

I  WISH  to  give  the  reader  an  idea  of  the  power 
assumed  by  the  commanding  officers  of  the  var- 
ious frontier  posts,  and  would  ask  the  reader 
that  he  kindly  bear  in  mind  that  these  posts  were 
,  situated  a  long  way  from  civilization. 
The  commanding  officers  had  the  power  to  do  any- 
thing they  chose  to  either  a  soldier  or  a  citizen.    The 
latter  they  seemed  to  dislike  very  much,  and  in  many 
cases  were  very  severe  with  them.    Many,  like  myself, 
following  the  occupation  of  a  government  teamster, 
were  compelled  to  take  any  insults  the  officers  would 
thrust  upon  them,  knowing  well  that  if  they  offended 
the  officer,  he  would  drive  them  from  the  post  and, 
what   was   then   termed,   "blackball"    them,   and   in 
order  to  get  another  position,  the  teamster  would 
have  to  go  to  some  other  post  and  change  his  name. 
I  have  met  in  my  life  a  few  old  government  teamsters, 
who  had  changed  their  names  so  often  that  if  one 
should  call  them  by  their    real    name,  they    would 
hesitate  before  responding,  as  they  had  almost  for- 
gotten it. 

In  my  time  at  Fort  Laramie  the  commanding 
officer  was  General  Smith.  He  was  a  very  severe 
man  and  greatly  disliked  by  both  soldier  and  citizen. 
He  was  quite  old  at  the  time  I  knew  him,  with  gray- 
hair,  and  a  large  military  mustache,  and  a  goatee. 
This  gave  him  a  fierce  look.  He  always  wore  a 
military  cloak,  which  was  lined  with  a  bright  red 
material  and  the  corner  of  this  he  would  throw  over 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  98 

his  left  shoulder,  exposing  the  lining,  and  with  his 
gold  handled  sword  at  his  side,  in  his  estimation  he 
was  lord  of  all  he  surveyed.  The  soldiers  used  to 
say  that  if  by  mistake  he  looked  kindly  at  one  of 
them,  he  would  go  to  his  quarters  and  have  his  orderly 
tie  him  to  a  post  and  horsewhip  him.  This  was  what 
the  soldiers  called  "doing  penance." 

One  day  I  was  leading  three  mules  with  halters 
on;  attached  to  them  were  chain  halters  shanks.  I 
was  taking  the  mules  to  the  blacksmith's  shop  to  be 
shod.  A  government  mule  is  very  hard  to  lead, 
especially  away  from  the  corral,  and  I  was  having  a 
difficult  time  with  them.  Suddenly  a  soldier  said  to 
me,  "General  Smith  wants  to  see  you."  I  asked  him 
where.  He  motioned  his  head  toward  the  parade 
grounds — there  stood  General  Smith.  The  soldier 
was  his  orderly.  I  tied  the  mules  to  a  nearby  post 
and  walked  up  to  "His  Majesty."  He  asked  me  where 
I  was  going  with  those  mules.  I  told  him  to  the 
blacksmith's  shop.  He  grunted,  turned  his  head  and 
walked  away.  He  never  knew  what  passed  through 
my  mind.  I  returned  to  my  mules  and  completed  my 
journey. 

The  gala  day  in  these  isolated  posts  once  a  month, 
was  "dress  parade."  All  soldiers  turned  out,  including 
the  band.  They  arranged  seats  on  the  edge  of  the 
parade  grounds  for  the  officers'  wives  and  visiting 
friends.  Citizens  employees  also  attended,  but  they 
were  supposed  to  take  up  their  position  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  parade  ground.  The  soldiers  marched 
around,  the  band  played  martial  airs,  led  by  "His 
Majesty"  the  General.  When  this  was  over,  the 
officers  and  their  wives,  and  visiting  friends,  would 
parade  arm  in  arm,  praising  and  criticising. 

I  had  a  teamster  friend  whom  I  bunked  with 
while  at  the  post,  our  sleeping  quarters  being  en- 
closed by  a  corral,  on  the  opposite  side  from  where  the 


Page  99  HARDKNOCKS 

mules  were  stabled.  This  boy's  name  was  Charley 
O'Brien.  He  was  a  very  wild  young  fellow  and 
absolutely  fearless.  We  had  had  a  pay  day  about 
this  time,  and  he  and  I  went  up  the  river  one  after- 
noon to  a  ranch  where  they  sold  whiskey  and  where 
they  also  had  three  or  four  girls  with  whom  we  could 
dance.  There  were  many  of  these  ranches  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  post  and  they  were  called  "Hog 
Ranches."  Why  so  called,  I  could  not  say,  as  I  never 
saw  any  hogs  around  them,  but  think  that  perhaps 
it  had  reference  to  the  girls  as  they  were  a  very  low, 
tough  set. 

We  stayed  there  that  night  until  about  ten  o'clock, 
returning  to  the  post  pretty  well  filled  up  with  "bug 
juice,"  commonly  called  whiskey.  In  crossing  the 
corral,  O'Brien  remarked: 

"Tomorrow  is  dress  parade!" 

General  Smith  had  a  very  fine  horse  which  he  rode 
at  these  parades.  To  take  care  of  this  horse,  he  had 
a  soldier  detailed  and  whom  the  soldiers  termed  "dog 
robber."  All  officers  had  soldier  servants  and  they 
were  all  known  by  the  same  name.  Why  this  was 
given  them,  I  am  unable  to  state.  However,  O'Brien 
suggested  that  we  go  to  the  stable  in  the  corner  of 
the  corrall  where  this  horse  was  and  together  shave 
his  tail.  At  first  I  refused,  but  O'Brien  explained  to 
my  satisfaction  that  General  Smith  would  blame  the 
"dog-robber"  or  some  other  soldier,  and  never  would 
suspect  a  citizen.  I  finally  agreed,  and  getting  a  candle 
and  shears,  we  started  off  to  the  stable,  I  holding  the 
candle  while  O'Brien  clipped  the  hair  from  the  horse's 
tail.  The  poor  horse,  not  having  had  this  kind  of 
treatment  before,  could  not  understand  it.  He  would 
turn  his  head  around,  looking  first  at  one  and  then 
the  other,  and  I  really  felt  sorry  for  him.  However, 
we  finished  the  job  and  lo,  and  behold!  such  a  change 
in  a  horse,  you  can't  imagine.  His  tail,  while  larger 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  100 

than  a  rat's,  looked  very  similar  to  one.  We  gathered 
up  the  hair  the  best  we  could,  hiding  it  in  a  pile  of 
manure.  We  then  went  to  our  bunk. 

Teamsters  were  compelled  to  rise  early  in  the 
morning.  But  O'Brien  and  I,  not  feeling  very  well, 
remained  in  bed  longer  than  the  balance.  We  were 
finally  awakened  by  a  loud  noise  in  the  corral.  Dress- 
ing ourselves  hurriedly,  we  went  out  to  the  corral. 
There  we  found  the  "dog  robber"  with  all  the  team- 
sters standing  around  him.  He  was  waving  his  hands 
in  the  air  and  moaning  like  a  man  in  great  pain. 

"My  God,"  he  was  saying,  "the  General  will  kill 
me  when  hears  of  this." 

O'Brien,  stepping  up  to  him  said:  "My  good  man, 
go  at  once  and  report  this  before  the  soldier  escapes 
who  committed  this  dastardly  act." 

But  the  poor  fellow  was  afraid  to  do  so.  O'Brien 
then  told  him  he  would  go  up  with  him.  This  quieted 
him,  and  together  they  went  to  General  Smith's  quar- 
ters, O'Brien  making  the  report.  The  General  imme- 
diately came  down  to  the  corral,  looked  at  the  horse, 
and  turning  around  to  O'Brien,  said:  "My  man,  I  will 
give  you  five  hundred  dollars  if  you  will  find  the  sol- 
dier or  soldiers  who  committed  this  act." 

O'Brien  bowed  respectfully  and  told  the  General  he 
would  try  his  best  to  earn  the  reward.  Tne  expres- 
sion on  the  General's  face  was  a  sight  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. His  face  was  naturally  red,  but  in  his  great 
anger  it  turned  a  bluish  cast.  He  coughed  a  few  times 
and  throwing  his  head  erect,  strutted  back  to  his  quar- 
ters, the  maddest  man  in  Fort  Laramie.  There  was 
no  dress  parade  that  day.  About  an  hour  after  Gen- 
eral Smith  had  left,  the  horse  was  taken  away, — to 
where  I  cannot  say,  for  no  one  ever  saw  him  again 
at  Fort  Laramie  in  my  time. 

In  1892  I  was  employed  to  manage  a  transfer  com- 
pany in  Tacoma,  Washington.  After  taking  charge 


Page  101  HARD   KNOCKS 

and  in  looking  over  the  books,  we  found  a  great  many 
old  unpaid  bills.  I  suggested  to  the  president  of  the 
company,  "Woody  Sprague,"  that  we  employ  a  young 
man  who  had  the  ability  to  collect  these  old  bills,  also 
suggesting  that  we  pay  him  a  liberal  commission.  He 
agreed  with  me  and  we  inserted  an  advertisement  in 
the  daily  paper.  Six  persons  answered  the  advertise- 
ment. The  matter  being  in  my  hands,  I  interviewed 
these  applicants,  and  finally  selected  a  young  man 
whom,  in  my  judgment,  I  thought  the  best  fitted  for 
the  position.  His  name  was  L.  Smith. 

After  Smith  had  been  working  there  for  about 
two  weeks,  he  happened  to  hear  me  mention  "Fort 
Laramie,"  and  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  lived  there.  I 
told  him  yes,  and  that  I  used  to  drive  a  six-mule  team 
at  that  post.  He  then  informed  me  that  he  was  born 
there. 

"Why!"  I  said,  "you  are  the  son  of  General  Smith 
then,  aren't  you?" 

He  replied,  "Yes,  did  you  know  my  father?" 

I  told  him  I  did  and  asked  him  where  his  father 
was,  and  if  alive. 

"Why,  yes,"  he  answered.  "He  is  living  here  on  the 
retired  list." 

He  also  said  that  when  he  went  home  that  night 
he  would  tell  his  father,  adding,  that  if  his  father  felt 
well  enough,  he  would  bring  him  down  to  see  me. 

I  made  no  reply  to  this,  well  knowing  that  if  the 
General  was  as  he  used  to  be,  he  would  not  come ;  but 
to  my  great  surprise,  the  following  afternoon  at  about 
three  o'clock  in  walked  the  young  man  with  his  father. 

The  General  still  wore  his  military  cloak  with  one 
side  thrown  over  his  shoulder,  and  did  not  look  a  day 
older  than  he  did  at  Fort  Laramie.  The  young  man 
introduced  us.  The  General  did  not  shake  hands  or 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  102 

bow,  but  said:  "My  son  informs  me  that  you  were 
at  Fort  Laramie  during  the  time  I  was  in  command 
there?" 

"I  replied,  "Yes,  sir." 

He  coughed  once  or  twice,  saying:  "I  am  always 
pleased  to  meet  anyone  who  has  lived  at  Fort 
Laramie."  Looking  around,  he  then  remarked,  "This 
is  quite  a  concern!"  referring  to  the  transfer  busi- 
ness. Without  further  comment,  he  left  the  office, 
his  son  accompanying  him.  This  ended  our  meeting. 

The  following  morning  I  asked  his  son  what  his 
father  thought  of  the  "ex-mule-skinner,"  and  if  in  his 
lifetime  he  had  ever  heard  his  father  speak  of  the 
"tail-shaving"  .incident.  He  looked  at  me  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  said,  "No ;  but  I  have  heard  my  mother 
mention  it,  but  she  has  warned  us  never  to  discuss 
the  matter  in  father's  presence,  which  we  never  do." 

He  then  went  on:  "If  you  will  not  be  offended  I 
will  answer  your  questions  regarding  what  my  father 
thinks  of  you." 

I  assured  him  I  would  not. 

He  then  told  me  that  his  father  had  said,  "That 
fellow  looks  all  right;  but  I  never  knew  him  at  Fort 
Laramie,  *as  I  always  detested  teamsters,"  and  advised 
him  not  to  become  too  familiar  with  me,  as  his  past 
experience  had  taught  him  that  teamsters  were  a  d — 
bad  set. 

I  then  told  him  to  tell  his  mother,  and  through 
her  his  father,  that  if  that  five  hundred  dollar  reward 
still  stood  good,  I  was  sure  I  could  produce  one  of  the 
men  who  helped  shave  the  horse's  tail. 

The  boy  laughed  and  said,  "I  would  not  approach 
father  on  the  subject  again  if  you  were  to  present 
me  with  a  thousand  dollars,  as  it  would  greatly  annoy 
my  mother,  and  am  sure  it  would  hasten  my  father's 


Page  103  HARDKNOCKS 

death,"  and  I  judged  from  his  remark  that  it  was  a 
forbidden  subject  in  their  family.  The  young  man 
continued  in  our  employ  until  I  quit  the  transfer  com- 
pany. His  father,  I  heard,  died  four  years  later. 

In  the  year  1870  the  Government  installed  a  port- 
able sawmill  at  a  point  named  Harney's  Peak,  forty 
miles  north  of  Fort  Laramie,  their  intention  being  to 
manufacture  lumber  to  be  used  at  the  Fort.  The  In- 
dians became  very  troublesome,  however,  and  the  Gov- 
ernment was  forced  to  remove  the  machinery  to  Fort 
Laramie  and  there  erect  the  sawmill.  In  the  early 
spring  of  1873  they  detailed  twenty-five  teams  to 
transport  some  of  the  logs,  I  being  one  of  the  team- 
sters. We  had  an  infantry  escort  commanded  by  Lieu- 
tenant Robinson.  On  returning  from  this  trip,  Rob- 
inson took  with  him  his  first  sergeant  and  his  orderly. 
All  three  were  mounted.  Leaving  the  teams  early  in 
the  morning,  he  told  the  wagonmaster  that  he  would 
meet  us  in  camp  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
and  that  he  would  ride  across  country  and  kill  a  deer, 
the  second  lieutenant  being  left  in  charge  of  the 
escort. 

We  made  camp  about  four  o'clock  and  were  about 
to  unharness  the  mules,  when  the  orderly  suddenly 
appeared  on  foot  and  informed  us  that  Lieutenant 
Robinson  and  the  sergeant  had  been  killed  by  the  In- 
dians. He  very  much  exaggerated  his  story  by  ex- 
citedly saying  that  half  of  the  Sioux  nation  were  on 
the  war  path.  The  lieutenant  in  command  ordered  the 
boys  to  unload  the  logs,  and  if  one  ever  wanted  to 
see  soldiers  work,  they  could  surely  have  seen  them 
then.  These  logs  that  would  ordinarily  have  taken  a 
full  hour  to  unload  were  off  the  wagons  in  five  min- 
utes. Soldiers  climbing  on  the  running  gears  of  the 
wagons,  we  started  for  the  post.  The  mules  seemed 
to  scent  the  danger,  and  in  a  few  minutes  were  on  a 
wild  run.  All  was  excitement. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  104 

I  looked  back  once  or  twice  from  my  saddle  mule 
and  it  was  surely  a  laughable  sight  to  see  those  sol- 
diers bouncing  like  rubber  balls  and  hanging  on  for 
dear  life.  Many  of  them  dropped  their  guns,  being 
unable  to  hold  on  to  the  wagon  and  their  guns  as  well. 
What  we  most  wanted  was  to  get  to  the  post,  where 
we  arrived  at  midnight. 

I  don't  know  what  the  lieutenant  reported  to  the 
commanding  officer,  but  I  do  know  that  I  was  routed 
out  of  my  blankets  by  the  wagonmaster  about  four 
A.  M.  and  told  to  hitch  up  four  mules  to  an  ambulance 
and  report  to  the  commanding  officer,  where  I  found 
two  companies  of  cavalry  ready  to  start  in  search  of 
the  bodies.  Taking  the  still  frightened  orderly  along, 
we  left  on  the  gallop,  finding  the  bodies  about  eight 
o'clock  in  the  morning  on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  both 
killed  and  scalped.  On  being  more  closely  questioned^ 
the  orderly  admitted  that  there  were  but  five  Indians 
in  the  party,  whom  we  presumed  were  merely  hunt- 
ing. He  also  stated  that  Lieutenant  Robinson,  on  see- 
ing the  Indians  approach,  ran  off,  the  sergeant  follow- 
ing. The  orderly  dismounting,  secreted  himself  in  the 
rocks  and  was  not  molested,  the  Indians  merely  taking 
his  horse,  but  they  followed  Robinson  and  the  ser- 
geant, killing  both  of  them. 

In  the  year  1869,  prior  to  my  time,  the  telegraph 
line  between  Fort  Fetterman  and  Laramie  became 
grounded.  They  dispatched  from  Fort  Fetterman  a 
sergeant  and  four  soldiers  with  a  six-mule  team  to 
repair  this  line.  They  discovered  about  four  miles 
from  the  post  that  the  wire  had  broken  loose  from 
the  top  of  the  telegraph  pole.  This  pole  was  situated 
at  the  head  of  a  little  canyon  or  wash-put.  The  ser- 
geant ordered  a  soldier  to  carry  the  wire  up  and  at- 
tach it,  the  three  other  men  staying  in  the  wagon 
with  the  team.  While  this  man  was  up  the  pole,  five 


s 


Page  105  HARDKNOCKS 

young  Sioux  Indians  crawled  up  this  canyon,  shooting 
and  killing  him.  The  team  became  frightened,  run- 
ning back  to  Fort  Fetterman,  leaving  the  sergeant 
alone.  He,  seeing  the  Indians,  also  ran  toward  the 
post.  When  he  got  about  twenty  steps  on  the  north 
side  of  the  wagon  road,  the  Indians  shot  him.  They 
then  scalped  and  mutilated  the  body  horribly,  and  it 
is  said,  cut  out  his  heart,  and  also  cut  his  ears  and 
nose  off.  The  team  in  the  meantime  having  arrived 
at  the  post,  they  immediately  sent  soldiers  out  to  look 
for  the  sergeant  and  private.  Finding  the  sergeant 
as  stated,  and  after  removing  him,  they  drove  a  large 
stake  where  his  head  lay,  putting  on  this  stake  an  old 
buffalo  skull. 

When  I  went  into  that  country,  I  heard  the  story 
many  times  that  where  that  body  lay,  grass  had  never 
grown  after  the  killing,  while  all  around  it  was  the 
very  finest  of  grass.  This  spot  was  situated  on  the 
top  of  what  was  called  La  Bonte  Hill.  The  first  time 
I  went  to  Fetterman,  several  other  teamsters  and  my- 
self examined  this  spot;  in  fact,  all  teams  or  horse- 
men going  by  and  knowing  of  this  phenomenon, 
always  examined  it.  I  have  seen  it  myself  twenty 
times  and  am  satisfied  in  my  mind  that  this  spot  at 
one  time  was  a  deserted  ant  hill,  which  the  elements 
had  flattened  down. 

While  in  Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  in  1912,  I  met  a 
great  many  old-timers,  and  in  talking  with  them  I 
mentioned  the  incident.  They  all  remembered  it  well. 
One  of  them,  Bob  Carson,  said  he  had  visited  the  spot 
two  weeks  prior  to  this  time  and  that  it  was  still 
barren.  Old-timers  believed  that  this  grass  was 
killed  by  the  blood  of  the  sergeant.  I  remarked  that 
I  thought  it  was  an  old  ant  hill.  They  looked  at  me 
a  little  while,  one  of  them  saying :  "Young,  since  you 
have  been  living  in  large  cities  and  meeting  these  d — 
fool  scientists,  they  have  talked  that  into  your  head. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  106 

We  have  had  four  or  five  of  them  tell  us  the  same 
thing,"  and  to  a  man  they  stuck  to  the  theory  that 
the  blood  had  killed  the  grass.  A  year  ago  my  old 
friend,  Hi  Kelley,  while  visiting  his  son  in  Portland, 
took  dinner  at  my  house.  I  happened  to  mention  this 
subject  to  him  and  he  immediately  said,  "Yes,  that 
place  is  barren  yet;  made  so  by  the  blood  of  the  poor 
sergeant." 

While  at  Fort  Laramie  many  amusing  incidents 
happened ;  incidents  which  were  so  ludricous  as  to  up- 
set the  dignity  of  the  company  commanders,  and  on 
various  occasions  that  of  the  commanding  officer. 

I  recall  three  such  incidents.  A  recruit  was  sent 
out  to  Laramie  and  for  some  days  he  got  along  very 
well,  but  when  one  of  the  old-timers  called  his  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  he  had  been  eating  with  the  mess 
for  some  'days  without  "butter  checks,  he  asked  where 
they  were  obtained.  A  soldier  named  Mickey  Flinn 
informed  him  that  the  captain  always  issued  such  as 
were  needed.  The  recruit  immediately  set  out  in 
search  of  the  captain.  His  blouse  was  unbuttoned  and 
his  round-topped  army  cap  sat  at  an  angle  of  40  de- 
grees on  his  head.  Knocking  on  the  door,  the  cap- 
tain, who  was  known  as  a  strict  disciplinarian, 
appeared. 

"Say,  cap,"  said  the  recruit,  "by  heck,  I  have  got 
to  have  some  of  them  butter  checks." 

"Some  what?"  exploded  the  captain. 

"Butter  checks,  I  gad,  butter  checks,  'cause  them 
d —  fools  down  at  the  cook  house  won't  let  me  eat 
any  more  until  I  get  Jem." 

The  captain  looked  at  the  man  and  grabbing  his 
cap  from  his  head,  started  for  the  company  quarters, 
where  he  met  the  first  sergeant  of  the  company,  ask- 
ing him  who  sent  this  man  to  his  quarters  dressed  in 


Page  107  HARDKNOCKS 

such  an  unmilitary  costume,  demanding  butter  checks. 
"What  does  it  mean?" 

The  recruit  spoke  up,  saying,  "The  sergeant  is  not 
the  man  who  sent  me." 

The  captain  then  asked  him  if  he  could  point  out 
the  man  who  did.  He  replied,  "Yes." 

They  then  formed  the  company  in  line,  and  walk- 
ing down  looking  at  first  one  and  then  the  other, 
pointed  put  Flinn  as  the  man,  who  denied  the  charge, 
and  calling  on  the  other  men  who  substantiated  the 
denial.  The  captain  could  retain  himself  no  longer, 
and  throwing  the  recruit's  cap  on  the  floor,  burst  out 
in  a  roar  of  laughter,  and  walking  from  the  quarters, 
turned  around  at  the  door,  and  in  a  loud  voice  ordered 
.the  sergeant  to  give  the  man  some  butter  checks. 

Between  the  parade  ground  and  the  Platte  River 
were  situated  three  very  large  stacks  of  hay,  which 
were  quite  a  distance  from  the  guard  house.  Around 
those  stacks  of  hay  night  and  day  was  stationed  a 
guard,  whose  duty  it  was  to  walk  around  them.  It 
came  a  recruit's  time  to  take  this  post.  His  hours 
were  from  ten  o'clock  at  night  until  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning.  This  was  considered  a  very  lonely  post. 
About  fifty  yards  below  the  stacks  was  an  old  Indian 
burying  ground.  The  older  soldiers  confidentially  told 
this  recruit  that  at  the  hour  of  twelve,  midnight,  the 
spirits  of  these  departed  Indians  often  appeared.  They 
warned  him  not  to  shoot  at  these  spirits  as  it  was 
useless,  but  if  any  did  appear,  to  shoot  his  gun  in  the 
air  and  they  would  come  to  his  relief.  The  day  pre- 
vious they  had  taken  a  soldier  to  the  hospital  who 
had  an  ulcerated  tooth,  the  pain  of  which  made  him 
delirious.  About  midnight  he  walked  out  of  the  hos- 
pital with  a  bed  sheet  thrown  over  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders. He  wandered  down  by  the  hay  stacks  toward 
the  Platte  River.  This  recruit,  seeing  him  in  that 
garb,  knew  at  once  that  he  was  one  of  the  Indian 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  108 

spirits,  and  as  directed,  shot  his  gun  in  the  air,  when 
the  corporal  of  the  guard  and  two-  soldiers  went  to  his 
assistance.  By  the  time  they  arrived  there,  the  sup- 
posed spirit  had  disappeared.  They  then  told  the  re- 
cruit that  he  was  nervous  and  imagined  he  saw  this 
spirit.  However,  he  insisted  strongly  that  he  was  sure 
he  had  seen  one  and  refused  to  stand  guard  any 
longer.  They  finally  compelled  him  to  do  so. 

The  next  morning  the  post  surgeon  in  going 
through  the  hospital,  discovered  that  the  soldier  with 
the  ulcerated  tooth  was  missing,  and  hearing  of  the 
incident  related,  instructed  that  search  be  made  for 
him.  They  found  him  lying  on  his  stomach  on  the 
river  bank  with  his  head  in  the  water,  dead — presum- 
ably drowned. 

Another  recruit,  hearing  his  companions  talking 
about  post  guard  and  not  knowing  what  it  meant, 
asked  the  corporal  what  one  did  on  post  guard.  The 
corporal  replied,  "Don't  show  your  ignorance  before 
the  soldiers,  as  they  will  josh  you.  Go  get  your  gun 
and  come  with  me  and  I  will  instruct  you." 

They  walked  out  to  the  rear  of  the  quarters,  the 
corporal  picking  up  a  large  wagon  spoke  and  an  axe, 
with  which  he  drove  the  spoke  in  the  ground,  leaving 
an  exposure  of  about  a  foot.  He  then  instructed  the 
recruit  to  hold  his  gun  with  both  hands  and  balance 
himself  by  standing  on  this  stake  with  one  foot,  and 
when  he  got  so  that  he  could  do  so,  he  would  be  pre- 
pared to  stand  post  guard.  The  corporal  then  in- 
formed the  rest  of  the  company  what  he  had  done  and 
through  the  windows  they  watched  this  fellow  for  a 
half  hour,  trying  to  balance  himself  on  the  stake. 
Finally  he  gave  it  up,  marching  into  the  quarters, 
when,  of  course,  they  all  laughed  at  him. 


Page  109  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE  SLEEP  OF  THE  JUST— IN  THE  PLATTE  RIVER- 
GOVERNMENT'S  CIVILIZING  OF  THE  SIOUX— LIGHT 
ON  INDIAN  POLICIES— ORIGIN  OF  THE  SIOUX  IN- 
DIAN FUED— A  DRUNKEN  OFFICER  AND  A  THIRTY- 
DOLLAR  COW  — AN  AGENCY  EMPLOYEE  — THE 
WHITE  MAN  WITH  THE  REMARKABLE  EYE— QUEER 
EXPERIENCES  WITH  THE  SIOUX— SOME  OF  THE 
FAMOUS  CHIEFS. 

IN  November,  1873,  there  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie 
two  teams  from  Red  Cloud  Agency,  driven  by  Pat 
Simmons  and  Mike  Dunn.  They  informed  me  that 
I  could  now  get  a  position  on  the  Agency  and  that 
they  were  on  their  way  to  Cheyenne  for  supplies, 
and  would  return  in  seven  days,  and  instructed  me  to 
meet  them  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte  River,  at  the 
lower  crossing,  twenty-five  miles  east  of  Fort  Laramie, 
as  they  would  camp  there  that  night.  As  per  this 
agreement  I  left  Fort  Laramie  on  the  morning  of  the 
seventh  day  and  walked  the  entire  distance,  alone.  The 
Platte  River  is  a  very  treacherous  stream  and  full  of 
quicksand,  but  at  certain  places  it  can  be  crossed, 
owing  to  a  gravel  bottom.  These  places  were  called 
fords,  the  location  of  which  it  was  necessary  for  one 
to  know  in  crossing  the  stream,  to  avoid  getting  into 
the  quicksands.  Should  one,  in  crossing  unfortunately 
miss  the  ford,  there  would  be  great  danger  in  losing 
his  team  and  wagon.  I  have  known  instances  where 
they  had  gotten  into  the  quicksand,  barely  escaping 
with  their  own  lives  or  the  lives  of  their  teams,  as  it 
was  utterly  impossible  to  get  the  wagons  out.  In  one 
case,  a  wagon  entirely  disappeared  in  forty-eight 
hours. 

On  my  journey  to  this  crossing,  owing  to  the  sandy 
road,  I  walked  very  slowly,  and  darkness  overtook  me 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  110 

before  my  arrival.  Becoming  bewildered,  I  strayed 
out  into  the  sand  hills  and  came  to  the  realization  that 
I  was  lost,  but  knowing  that  the  Platte  River  lay  in 
a  northerly  direction,  I  started  that  way  and  finally 
found  it  about  midnight.  Tired  and  cold  and  being 
without  blankets,  I  tried  to  find  some  driftwood  with 
which  to  make  a  fire,  but  the  night  being  so  dark,  I 
was  unsuccessful.  I  then  walked  back  from  the  river 
to  keep  warm  and  stumbled  onto  an  old  cock  of  hay 
which  had  been  left  by  Government  contractors,  they 
having  left  it  there  while  cutting  wild  hay.  I  lifted 
it  up  and  crawled  under  it.  In  time  my  shelter  be- 
came warm,  and  hungry  and  footsore,  I  fell  asleep. 
However,  before  doing  so,  I  heard  a  noise  that  struck 
me  with  terror, — the  howling  of  wolves  I 

My  feelings  can  better  be  imagined  than  described, 
and  it  was  only  from  sheer  exhaustion  that  I  fell 
asleep.  When  I  awoke,  the  sun  was  well  up  in  the 
heavens.  The  teams  had  crossed  the  river  and  I  found 
that  I  was  two  miles  above  the  ford.  I  took  my 
clothes  off,  tied  them  in  a  bundle  on  my  head  and 
waded  into  that  cold  Platte  River.  I  got  along  all 
right  until  near  the  north  side,  when  I  unfortunately 
got  off  the  ford  and  into  the  quicksand.  I  now  found 
my  progress  exceedingly  slow  and  difficult.  When  I 
tried  to  step  ahead,  my  foot  would  be  fast  in  the  sand, 
and  it  was  only  by  continually  plunging  that  I  was 
able  to  reach  the  shore  in  a  very  exhausted  condition. 
I  dressed  and  went  to  a  ranch  kept  by  a  squaw-man 
named  "Nick  Jannesse."  I  asked  him  if  he  had  seen 
the  Agency  teams.  He  said  yes,  that  they  had  broken 
camp  four  hours  ago.  He  gave  me  breakfast  and  I 
started  after  them,  catching  up  with  them  about  noon 
in  the  sand  hills.  The  boys  were  very  glad  to  see  me, 
but  not  more  so  than  I  was  to  see  them.  They  had 
thought  I  was  not  coming.  We  arrived  at  the  Agency 
in  due  time  and  I  reported  to  Dr.  Seville,  who  took 


Page  111  HARD   KNOCKS 

me  into  his  office  to  give  me  instructions  as  one  of  his 
employees. 

To  have  the  reader  understand  the  situation  as  it 
existed  in  the  summer  of  1873,  I  will  explain  on  what 
plan  they  proposed  to  civilize  the  Sioux. 

The  Indians  at  that  time  were  in  the  hands  of  the 
Interior  Department  of  the  Government,  their  inten- 
tion being  to  civilize  them  through  kindness,  the  mili- 
tary having  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  them.  At 
this  time  the  Sioux  domain  comprised  all  lands  from 
the  British  Northwest  as  far  south  as  Wyoming  and 
east  to  Nebraska.  The  Platte  River  was  the  dividing 
line.  Fort  Laramie  was  the  nearest  post  to  the 
Agency. 

Before  giving  my  experiences  while  on  Red  Cloud 
Agency,  I  wish  to  take  the  reader  back  some  years 
before  my  time.  I  think  in  the  fifties  or  early  sixties, 
a  certain  officer  in  Fort  Laramie  owned  a  cow  worth 
thirty  dollars.  This  cow  by  some  means  strayed 
across  the  Platte  River,  where  there  was  a  large  camp 
of  Sioux  Indians.  One  of  the  Indians  killed  this  cow. 
The  officer  who  owned  it,  took  a  few  soldies  over  to 
the  Indian  camp  and  demanded  from  the  chief  the 
Indian  who  killed  the  cow.  This  officer  was  drunk  at 
the  time.  His  demand  was  met  with  refusal,  where- 
upon he  shot  the  chief,  killing  him.  Prior  to  this  time 
the  Indians  were  friendly  with  the  whites.  They 
would  steal  their  horses  but  were  not  in  open  war,  as 
was  the  case  after  this  occurrence.  I  cannot  recall 
this  officer's  name  or  the  name  of  the  chief  killed, 
but  doubtless  their  names  as  well  as  the  circumstances 
can  be  found  on  record  in  the  War  Department  at 
Washington. 

A  few  days  after  this  incident  a  company  of  sol- 
diers were  on  the  south  side  of  the  Platte,  about 
twenty-five  miles  below  Fort  Laramie.  They  were  not 
aware  of  the  trouble  on  account  of  the  cow.  The  In- 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  112 

dians,  about  one  thousand  in  number,  attacked  and 
killed  the  entire  company,  numbering  sixty.  They 
were  all  buried  in  the  same  grave  near  where  they 
fell,  with  the  exception  of  the  lieutenant  in  command, 
who  was  taken  to  Fort  Laramie.  After  this  it  was 
war  to  the  death  between  Sioux  and  white  man.  It 
was  all  caused  by  a  drunken  officer  and  an  old  thirty- 
dollar  cow;  and  many  whites  have  lost  their  lives 
since  then  through  this  occurrence. 

I  will  now  return  to  the  Agency.  Dr.  Seville,  the 
agent,  of  whom  I  have  before  made  mention,  came 
from  Sioux  City,  Iowa.  He  was  a  fine  man  and  I 
understand  he  left  a  large  practice  in  Sioux  City  to 
take  this  position.  His  salary  was  not  large  but  there 
were  many  ways  for  him  to  make  money  independent 
of  his  salary.  Dr.  Seville  explained  to  me ,  how  I 
should  act.  First,  I  was  not  to  carry  any  firearms. 
I  was  not  to  resent  any  insults  from  an  Indian,  no 
matter  what  he  said  or  did  to  me;  I  was  to  treat  them 
kindly,  etc. 

"Now,"  said  Seville,  "if  you  are  sure  you  can  live 
up  to  those  rules,  you  may  go  to  work.  Your  wages 
will  be  one  hundred  dollars  per  month  and  found." 

I  accepted  his  terms  and  became  an  employe  of 
the  Agency.  There  were  twenty-one  of  us  employed 
there,  Otis  Johnson  being  chief  clerk.  Others  whom 
I  recall  were  Mart  Gibbons,  who  was  corral  boss ;  Ben 
Tibbetts,  agency  butcher;  Paddy  Simmons,  Mike 
Dunne  and  Dutch  Joe,  teamsters.  Tom  Monahan  was 
boss  carpenter;  Mr.  Appleton  was  agency  farmer,  and 
we  also  had  there  a  negro  named  "Alec,"  who  later 
put  on  a  breech-clout  and  became  a  full-fledged  Sioux 
warrior.  I  often  wonder  what  ever  became  of  this 
negro.  He  is  worthy  of  mention.  He  was  about 
twenty-five  years  of  age,  perfectly  built  and  very  in- 
telligent. He  spoke  the  Sioux  language  fluently  and 
was  a  great  favorite  with  the  tribe.  He  gradually 


Page  113  HARDKNOCKS 

adopted  their  ways  from  preference,  it  evidently  be- 
ing the  height  of  his  ambition  to  become  one  of  them. 

The  first  day  I  worked  I  was  carrying  a  board  on 
my  shoulder,  when  a  young  buck  caught  it  by  the  end, 
and  swinging  it  around,  knocked  me  down.  I  jumped 
up  and  ran  at  him,  mad  as  a  March  hare.  Some  one 
yelled  at  me,  "Look  out,  Young!  You  will  lose  your 
job  if  you  hit  him."  I  remembered  my  instructions 
from  the  agent  and  stopped. 

These  Sioux  were  very  mischievous  and  were  con- 
tinually playing  tricks  on  us  boys.  We  also  had  on 
the  Agency  a  character  named  Molasses  Bill,  this 
name  being  given  him  on  account  of  his  love  for 
molasses.  He  was  employed  as  a  carpenter  and  had 
one  glass  eye.  One  day  Bill  and  I  were  on  the  roof 
of  the  commissary  putting  on  tar  paper.  The  wind 
was  blowing  hard  as  it  often  did,  and  the  air  was  full 
of  fine  sand,  which  got  into  Bill's  eye,  causing  him 
much  annoyance.  This  compelled  him  to  remove  the 
glass  eye  and  wipe  it  off  with  his  handkerchief.  An 
Indian  named  Grass  saw  the  act  and  was  much  sur- 
prised to  know  that  we  had  a  white  man  who  could 
remove  his  eye  at  will.  Grass  motioned  him  down 
from  the  building  and  with  other  Indians  made  him 
remove  the  eye  again.  In  doing  so,  the  Indians  all  set 
up  a  great  howl  and  thought  Bill  the  wonder  of  the 
age,  and  Bill  for  the  next  few  days  was  kept  busy 
taking  out  and  putting  in  that  glass  eye.  After  some 
days  it  seemed  to  affect  his  head  and  he  became  in- 
sane. The  agent  was  finally  compelled  to  furnish  him 
with  an  Indian  escort  and  send  him  to  Fort  Laramie. 

I  will  here  mention  a  few  names  of  the  chiefs  and 
more  prominent  Indians,  but  before  doing  so  will  ex- 
plain how  Indians  derive  their  names. 

The  Indians  do  not  christen  their  children  but  se- 
lect names  from  some  act  which  has  attracted  an  older 
Indian  while  the  one  named  is  in  his  infancy.  For 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  114 

instance,  take  the  name  "Man  Afraid  of  His  Horses." 
This  particular  name  was  given  him  when  a  child  by 
some  older  Indian  having  seen  him  afraid  of  horses. 
As  he  grew  into  manhood,  he  was  called  "Man  Afraid 
of  His  Horses,"  and  while  I  lived  on  the  Agency  this 
Indian  had  a  grown  son,  and  to  distinguish  him  from 
his  father,  he  was  called  "Young  Man  Afraid  of  His 
Horses."  There  was  no  exception  to  this  rule  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  their  names  were  derived  in 
this  way. 

"Red  Cloud"  was  the  acknowledged  chief  of  the 
Agency  and  the  most  powerful.  Their  power  origi- 
nated from  two  causes.  "Red  Cloud"  was  a  great 
warrior  in  his  early  days;  while  other  Indians,  for  in- 
stance, "Little  Wound,"  got  his  great  power  from 
the  number  of  his  relatives.  They  were  divided  into 
bands.  There  was  "Red  Cloud's"  band,  "Little 
Wound's"  band,  "Man  Afraid  of  His  Horses' "  band, 
etc.  Then  again,  they  had  great  diplomats.  One 
was  "Spotted  Tail."  He  would  be  ranked  in  the  same 
order  as  our  great  James  G.  Elaine  or  Roscoe  Conk- 
ling,  and  all  treaties  formed  with  other  tribes  or  with 
the  United  States  Government,  were  submitted  to 
him  before  being  ratified,  and  it  was  from  this  trait 
of  character  that  he  was  all-powerful. 

Referring  to  "Little  Wound"  reminds  me  of  the 
night  mentioned  when  I  made  my  tenderfoot  trip  with 
my  Indian  companion.  The  reason  for  my  companion's 
excitement  was  that  "Little  Wound's"  band  of  braves 
had  been  on  a  hunting  expedition  in  the  eastern  part 
of  Wyoming,  where  they  ran  across  a  camp  of  old 
men  and  women  of  the  Pawnee  tribe.  The  young 
Pawnee  bucks  being  out  on  the  hunt  and  having  left 
the  old  men  and  women  in  camp,  this  "Little  Wound's" 
band  killed  them  all,  amounting  to  about  one  hundred, 
and  these  young  bucks  were  returning  to  the  Agency 
the  night  we  met  them  on  the  road;  they  had  heard 


Page  115  HARD   KNOCKS 

from  their  scouts  that  the  Pawnee  Indians  were  about 
to  attack  the  Sioux  in  retaliation  for  killing  their  old 
men  and  women.  I  afterward  saw  them  in  their  war 
dance  with  those  poor  old  folks'  scalps.  This  I  will 
explain  later. 

Another  powerful  and  notorious  Indian  was 
"Sword,"  who  was  a  very  bad  one  whom  we  much 
feared.  He  had  been  wounded  in  the  groin  by  a  white 
man  some  years  before,  which  made  him  hate  the 
white  race,  and  knowing  his  hatred  for  the  white  man, 
we  always  kept  at  a  safe  distance  until  we  knew  he 
had  left  the  Agency.  He  afterward  died  from  the 
wound.  Another  very  prominent  Indian,  "American 
Horse,"  and  who  was  very  friendly  to  the  whites,  had 
a  national  reputation,  having  visited  the  Great  Father 
at  Washington  in  company  with  other  Sioux  chiefs, 
and  where  he  had  promised  the  Government  that  he 
would  use  his  great  influence  and  his  best  endeavors 
to  keep  the  Indians  from  killing  the  whites,  stealing 
their  horses,  and  committing  other  depredations, 
which  he  did  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  I  will  speak 
of  him  later  and  show  how  he  kept  his  word. 

Another  Indian  character  was  "Chief  Grass"  of 
whom  I  have  spoken  previously.  Grass  could  speak 
English  fairly  well  and  he  had  a  very  comprehensive 
brain.  For  instance,  we  built  a  sawmill  nine  miles 
from  the  Agency  with  which  we  cut  the  lumber  to 
construct  the  buildings.  Grass  one  day,  with  some 
other  Indians,  wanted  to  see  this  mill  in  operation. 
The  boss  sawyer  of  the  mill  was  named  Charley. 
Charley  was  quite  a  loafer  and  did  not  keep  the  mill 
in  operation  half  of  the  time.  I  was  delegated  by  the 
agent  to  go  put  to  this  sawmill  with  these  Indians. 
When  we  arrived  there,  the  mill  was  not  in  operation. 
Grass  turned  around  to  me  and  remarked: 
"What's  the  matter?  Mill  no  run." 
I  replied,  "Ask  Charley ;  he's  boss  man  here." 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  116 

Grass  did  so. 

Charley  replied,  "I  have  to  gum  the  saw." 

Grass  looked  at  him  a  while  and  said,  "Me  think 
you  no  good.  Too  much  loaf  all  the  time.  Dam  big 
expense  on  us  Indians." 

Then  turning  to  me,  he  said:  "You  good  man. 
You  start  mill  up." 

I  had  a  hard  time  explaining  to  Grass  that  I  knew 
nothing  about  running  a  sawmill.  They  then  looked 
the  mill  over  and  we  returned  to  the  Agency.  Grass 
called  on  the  agent  and  entered  a  strong  complaint 
against  Charley.  After  counselling  some  time,  the 
agent  finally  promised  that  he  would  see  that  the  mill 
was  kept  running  in  future,  and  this  seemed  to  satisfy 
old  Grass. 

Another  prominent  and  very  bad  Indian  was  "Red 
Dog."  He  always  wore  a  hunting  jacket  made  en- 
tirely of  scalps  that  he  himself  had  taken  during  his 
lifetime.  In  the  back  of  this  jacket  was  a  woman's 
scalp.  She  in  life  was  a  white  woman  and  a  blonde. 
I  suppose  he  killed  and  scalped  her  in  the  Minnesota 
massacre  years  prior  to  this  time,  as  he  took  a  very 
active  part  in  that  affair.  I  could  have  purchased  that 
jacket  at  one  time  for  about  five  dollars  worth  of 
powder  and  lead,  and  wished  in  later  days  that  I  had 
done  so,  as  today  it  would  be  worth  a  large  sum  of 
money. 


Page  117  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

MORE  NOTED  SIOUX  CHARACTERS—SITTING  BULL'S 
RIGHT  BOWER  IN  THE  CUSTER  MASSACRE— BEN 
TIBBETT'S  GOOD  ADVICE— INDIANS  AS  BEGGARS 
AND  DRINKERS— RED  CLOUD'S  BOY— SAVED  FROM 
RED  CLOUD'S  "BAD  HEART"— A  HIGH-GRADE  IN- 
DIAN FUNERAL— RED  CLOUD  AND  HIS  FINAL 
HAND-WASHING. 

IN  the  preceding  chapter  I  mentioned  a  number  of 
prominent  as  well  as  bad  Sioux.  I  next  recall  Big 
Foot,  who  took  a  big  part  in  the  Custer  massacre. 
He  was  Sitting  Bull's  right-hand  bower  in  that 
affair.  There  were  also  many  lesser  lights  called 
Indian  soldiers. 

The  most  popular  white  man  on  the  Agency  was 
Ben  Tibbetts.  He  was  employed  as  agency  butcher. 
His  duty  was  to  take  care  of  the  old,  discarded 
squaws  and  men.  He  had  lived  among  the  Indians 
for  a  great  many  years  and  knew  a  great  many  of 
them ;  spoke  their  language,  knew  their  habits  and  had 
an  Indian  squaw  for  a  wife.  This  man  took  a  great 
interest  in  me  and  gave  me  some  good  advice  regard 
ing  the  Sioux.  He  told  me  never  to  give  them  any- 
thing, and  that  they  were  awful  beggars.  For  in- 
stance, if  one  gave  a  Sioux  fifty  cents,  the  next  day 
he  would  want  a  dollar,  and  if  refused,  he  became  an 
enemy.  I  took  Ben's  advice,  only  varying  from  it  on 
one  occasion. 

There  was  an  old  Indian  named  Gray  Eyes,  who 
spoke  English  quite  well,  and  one  day  he  told  me  his 
papoose  was  awful  sick  and  that  if  he  could  secure 
some  red  apples  he  had  seen  at  the  trading  store,  he 
knew  that  they  would  make  him  well.  These  apples 
cost  twenty-five  cents.  Instead  of  buying  the 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  118 

apples  for  him,  as  I  should  have  done,  I  foolishly  gave 
him  the  money.  This  he  proceeded  to  invest  in  a 
bottle  of  Perry  Davis'  Painkiller.  The  next  day  his 
squaw  came  and  told  the  agent  that  one  of  the  white 
men  had  given  her  Indian  some  poison  water  that  had 
almost  killed  him.  She  was  referring  to  the  pain- 
killer, which  he  had  drunk  and  which  made  him  very 
sick.  The  following  day  Gray  Eyes  again  appeared 
and  told  me  what  an  immense  amount  of  good  the  red 
apples  had  done  his  papoose.  He  wanted  fifty  cents 
more,  so  that  he  could  get  a  larger  supply  and  com- 
pletely cure  the  little  one.  This  I  refused,  and  it  re- 
sulted in  my  being  called  all  manner  of  names  and 
losing  the  friendship  of  Gray  Eyes,  verifying  what 
Tibbetts  had  told  me. 

There  were  two  trading  stores  on  the  Agency.  One 
was  kept  by  Mr.  Deere  and  the  other  by  Yates  & 
Reshaw.  Both  stores  carried  a  full  supply  of  Jamaica 
ginger,  Perry  Davis'  Painkiller  and  cheap  bay  rum,  and 
the  Indians  bought  large  quantities  of  each.  It  was 
their  custom  to  adulterate  this  and  drink  it  in  place  of 
whiskey.  They  would  take  the  bay  rum,  pour  it  into  a 
cup  of  water  and,  after  skimming  the  oil  for  the  sur- 
face, they  would  dring  it.  This  often  resulted  in  their 
getting  beastly  drunk  and  finally  the  agent  was  forced 
to  prohibit  the  sale  of  the  stuff  at  the  stores.  Bad 
white  men  would  bring  whiskey,  of  the  vilest  kind,  on 
the  Agency  and  trade  it  to  the  Indians  for  Buffalo 
robes,  blankets  and  horses.  While  under  the  influence 
of  this  vile  stuff,  they  became  very  quarrelsome  and 
dangerous  to  us  white  men  employed  there. 

Chief  Red  Cloud  had  a  favorite  son  about  eighteen 
years  of  age,  whom  he  expected  in  time  to  succeed  him. 
Indians  show  a  great  affection  for  their  sons,  much 
more  so  than  for  their  daughters.  No  matter  how  bad 
the  boys  became,  they  were  never  punished,  but  were 
more  appreciated.  Red  Cloud  was  completely  wrapped 


Page  119  HARD   KNOCKS 

up  in  his  son  and  had  predicted  a  great  future  for  him. 
The  son  became  severely  ill,  which  had  a  very  depress- 
ing effect  on  Red  Cloud.  One  day  Tom  Monahan  and 
I  were  at  work  on  the  stable  roof,  when  suddenly  we 
heard  a  great  deal  of  shooting.  Looking  down  at  Red 
Cloud's  camp,  which  was  close  by,  we  saw  the  Indians 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement,  firing  off  their  guns  and 
six-shooters.  I  remarked  to  Tom  that  Red  Cloud's  boy 
must  be  dead  or  dying,  and  that  we  had  better  lose 
no  time  in  getting  into  safer  quarters. 

The  shooting  referred  to  was  the  last  act  of  the 
Indians  before  the  death  of  one  of  their  number,  as  it 
was  supposed  to  drive  away  the  evil  spirits.  Quickly 
sliding  off  the  roof,  Tom  and  I  started  through  a  hole 
in  the  stockade  fence  to  go  across  to  our  quarters.  The 
Agency  quarters  not  being  finished,  we  were  compelled 
to  eat  and  sleep  in  two  houses  made  of  slabs  about 
fifty^  yards  from  the  stockade.  As  we  emerged  we 
suddenly  met  Red  Cloud,  who  was  naked,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  his  breechclout  and  moccasins.  With  a  knife 
he  had  slashed  his  breast,  arms  and  thighs,  causing 
blood  to  run  freely  down  his  body.  He  certainly  pre- 
sented a  ghastly  appearance.  This  slashing  was  an  in- 
dication of  great  grief  and  Red  Cloud,  with  his  head 
bowed  down,  gun  in  hand  and  crying  bitterly,  was 
indeed  a  pitiful  object. 

Indians  hearts,  as  they  termed  them,  became  bad 
through  the  losing  of  a  very  dear  friend  or  relative. 
When  in  that  condition,  they  had  the  idea  that  they 
must  kill  a  white  man  to  atone  for  their  loss  and  make 
their  hearts  "good  again."  Monahan  and  I  lost  no 
time  getting  back  through  that  opening  and  fortunately 
were  not  seen  by  Red  Cloud.  He  entered  the  gate  of  the 
stockade  and  was  met  by  Joe  Bisnett,  a  half-breed,  who 
was  the  chief  interpreter.  Joe  talked  with  him  for 
some  time,  telling  him  how  sorry  everyone  was  for 
him,  and  added  that  as  a  great  chief  he  should  set  a 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  120 

good  example  for  his  tribe,  and  not  attempt  the  injury 
of  a  white  man;  that  they  were  all  his  friends,  sent 
there  by  the  great  father  at  Washington  for  their  good 
and  comfort.  Joe  finally  brought  his  talk  to  a  close  by 
suggesting  to  him  that  he  accept  a  blanket  as  a  peace 
offering,  but  Red  Cloud  slowly  shook  his  head  and  re- 
fused. As  a  last  resort,  Joe  left  him  and,  going  to 
the  commissary,  shortly  returned  with  a  bright  red 
blanket,  urging  Red  Cloud  to  accept  it.  This  had  the 
desired  effect,  and  he  finally  nodded  his  head,  indicating 
that  Joe  had  carried  his  point.  Then  the  agent  came 
and  sympathized  with  Red  Cloud  and  told  him  what 
good  judgment  he  had  used  and  how  it  would  please 
the  great  father  at  Washington.  Red  Cloud  then  re- 
turned to  his  lodge,  where  the  body  lay.  Immediately, 
the  old  squaws  commenced  their  death  cry,  walking 
around  by  the  hundreds  in  a  large  circle,  and  giving 
vent  to  their  feelings.  It  was  solemn  and  mournful  in 
the  extreme,  and  no  description  could  do  it  full  justice. 

The  following  day  the  agent  sent  word  to  Red  Cloud 
by  Joe  that  he  would  like  to  talk  with  him  at  the  office. 
Red  Cloud  went  and  was  requested  to  bury  his  son  in 
a  box,  something  hitherto  unknown  among  the  Sioux. 
It  was  urged  that  this  new  mode  of  burial  would  have 
a  very  good  effect  on  his  tribe,  and  that  it  was  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  custom  of  the  white  man.  At  first 
Red  Cloud  refused.  It  seemed  hard  for  him  to  give 
up  the  old  custom  of  wrapping  the  dead  in  skins  and 
burying  them  by  lashing  them  to  poles,  which  were  laid 
across  the  high  limbs  of  trees.  Finally,  it  being  argued 
that  the  new  mode  was  another  step  of  the  Indians 
toward  civilization,  Red  Cloud  consented.  That  night 
the  carpenter  made  the  box  and  the  scaffold,  which  we 
hauled  out  the  following  morning  to  a  high  point  about 
a  mile  from  the  Agency.  The  agent  then  notified  Red 
Cloud  all  was  ready. 

The  funeral  started,  consisting  of  all  the  Indians, 
male  and  female,  children  and  dogs,  and  was  a  sight 


The  hanging  of  three   desperate  characters   at  Laramie   City,  Wyoming,   Oct. 

28,  1868.     From  left  to  right,  Big  Steve,  Con  Moyer,  Ace  Mover. 

(From  an  old  Daguerrotype) 


Page  121  HARDKNOCKS 

never  to  be  forgotten.  The  body  was  wrapped  tightly 
in  blankets  and  hauled  on  a  litter  to  its  last  resting 
place.  Four  other  white  men  and  myself  put  the  body 
in  the  box,  the  Indians  placing  therein  a  gun,  a  liberal 
supply  of  ammunition,  six  pairs  of  moccasins,  a  spear, 
bow  and  arrows  andtwo  extra  breechclouts,  some  eagles 
claws  and  beads.  These,  in  the  Sioux  belief,  were  for 
his  use  in  the  happy  hunting  ground.  Twenty  head  of 
ponies  were  then  driven  up  and  the  shooting  of  them 
began.  These  were  also  for  the  use  of  the  departed. 
The  increased  excitment  caused  by  the  shooting,  bullets 
and  arrows  flew  in  all  directions,  made  us  very  uneasy. 
Screwing  the  lid  down  tightly  and  raising  the  box  on 
the  scaffold,  Monahan  remarked,  "Drive  for  the  Agency 
as  fast  as  you  can."  So  I  whipped  up  the  mules  and 
made  faster  time  than  had  ever  been  made  before,  the 
occupants  of  the  wagon,  bouncing  around  like  rubber 
balls. 

Driving  into  the  stockade,  we  closed  the  gates  and 
for  two  hours  listened  in  terror  to  the  Sioux  shooting 
and  crying  as  though  bedlam  had  let  loose.  The  agent 
was  very  much  alarmed  and  we  all  thought  our  last 
day  had  come.  Gradually  the  uproar  subsided  and 
normal  conditions  prevailed  once  more.  Some  idea  of 
the  size  of  the  funeral  procession  may  be  formed  from 
the  fact  that  there  were  fully  five  thousand  in  attend- 
ance. That  evening  about  dark,  we  again  heard  the 
mournful  cry  of  the  squaws.  Looking  out,  we  saw 
large  numbers  of  them  walking  in  single  file.  They  had 
provisions  with  them,  carried  in  large  receptacles, 
which  they  were  taking  to  deposit  at  the  foot  of  the 
scaffold.  This  performance  was  kept  up  for  ten  days. 
Each  morning  the  provisions  were  gone,  having  been 
eaten  by  wolves.  These  provisions  were  supposed  to 
last  the  dead  'till  he  should  reach  the'rendezvous  of  the 
buffalo,  after  which  they  would  not  be  needed. 

The  morning  after  the  funeral,  Red  Cloud  began  the 
old  Indian  custom  of  distributing  gifts  among  his  tribe. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  122 

This  was  a  strong  trait  of  the  Indian  character.  The 
greater  the  man  and  the  greater  his  grief,  the  more 
was  expected  of  him.  These  gifts  consisted  of  horses, 
blankets,  lodges  and  articles  of  every  conceivable 
nature,  owned  by  the  chief;  nothing  being  reserved. 
The  object  of  the  crying  squaws  will  now  be  readily 
understood.  They  were  to  share  with  others  the  gen- 
erosity of  their  chief,  and  they  considered  their  antics 
necessary  to  that  end.  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  these 
gifts  were  given  only  for  effect  and  afterward  returned, 
for  in  two  weeks  Red  Cloud  seemed  to  own  approxi- 
mately as  much  as  he  had  owned  before.  This  is 
merely  a  supposition,  but  I  think  the  facts  will  prove 
that  I  am  very  nearly  correct. 

In  due  time  Red  Cloud's  grief  (as  in  the  case  of  the 
white  man)  gradually  wore  off  and  he  again  resumed 
his  usual  activities.  In  a  few  months  we  began  to  give 
dances  at  the  commissary,  Thursray  evenings  being  set 
apart  for  this  purpose.  In  order  to  get  the  half-breed 
girls  to  participate  (the  full  blood  girls  refused  to 
attend),  it  was  necessary  to  treat  them  to  a  dinner1 
after  the  dance.  The  agent  prevailed  on  Red  Cloud  to 
attend  these  dances,  which  he  did,  and  he  took  to  them 
as  a  duck  does  to  water,  and  enjoyed  himself  im- 
mensely. Ben  Tibbetts  and  I  took  it  upon  ourselves  to 
teach  him  square  dances,  and  he  proved  a  very  apt 
pupil.  At  first  naturally  awkward,  but  he  gradually 
threw  off  all  restraint  and  entered  into  the  sport  heart- 
whole  and  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  the  balance  of  us.  The 
keen  enjoyment  of  those  evenings  is  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. Finally  the  half-breed  boys  began  coming  and 
raised  such  havoc  with  the  dinners,  for  they  had  ab- 
normal appetites,  that  we  were  forced  to  discontinue 
by  orders  from  the  agent. 

Back  in  the  year  1866,  Red  Cloud  had  been  a  prom- 
inent leader  in  the  Fort  Phil  Kearney  massacre.  Some 
years  after  that  occurence,  he  came  into  Fort  Laramie, 


Page  123  HARD   KNOCKS 

called  on  General  Smith,  who  was  in  command  there, 
and  asked  him  for  a  basin  of  water.  Much  surprised, 
Smith  asked  him  what  he  wanted  it  for.  His  reply  was 
"To  wash  the  white  man's  blood  from  my  hands,  for  I 
have  been  up  to  my  arm  pits  in  it."  He  had  reference 
to  the  massacre.  Smith  granted  his  request,  and  after 
washing  his  hands  and  arms,  Red  Cloud  promised  he 
would  never  harm  a  white  man.  From  that  time  until 
his  death,  he  always  kept  his  word,  but  although  he 
instructed  his  tribe  to  do  likewise,  they  were  hard  to 
control  and  occasionally  trouble  resulted. 

While  visiting  Laramie  City,  on  the  line  of  the 
Union  Pacific  Railway,  in  1912,  I  met  there  my  old 
friend,  N.  K.  Bos  well.  He  informed  me  that  the  town 
of  Laramie  City  was  located  in  1868,  and  was  the 
next  terminus  after  Cheyenne.  The  founders  of  this 
town  were  Ace  and  Con  Moyer.  They  appointed  them- 
selves to  the  following  offices:  Ace,  justice  of  the 
peace,  and  Con,  marshal.  They  then  appointed  a  man 
named  Big  Ned  as  assistant  to  Con.  Ace  then  opened 
a  saloon  with  a  large  room  in  the  rear  which  was  used 
as  the  justice  office.  A  great  many  murders  were 
committed  in  this  room.  The  saloon  was  the  rendes- 
vous  for  railroad  laborers.  When  they  were  paid 
their  wages  they  would  play  against  Ace's  saloon. 
If  at  night  they  had  any  money  left,  they  were  taken 
into  this  room  and  knocked  on  the  head  with  an  iron 
bar,  and  later  put  in  a  wagon  by  Big  Steve,  hauled 
two  miles  from  the  town,  and  dumped  in  a  deep,  dry 
gulch,  where  the  wolves  would  devour  them.  So  many 
disappeared  that  the  saloon  was  called  the  "Bucket  of 
Blood."  Finally  the  citizens  became  aroused  and  under 
the  lead  of  N.  K.  Boswell,  organized  themselves  into 
a  vigilance  committee.  One  night  Ace,  Con  and  Big 
Steven  were  rounded  up  and  taken  to  a  partly  com- 
pleted log  house,  and  hanged  there  by  adjusting  the 
rope  around  their  necks,  standing  them  on  boxes,  and 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  124 

pushing  them  of  into  eternity.  Thus  ended  the  ca- 
reers of  three  bad  men.  Big  Steve  requested  that  his 
shoes  be  removed  before  hanging,  as  his  mother  had 
always  said  he  would  die  with  his  shoes  on,  and  he 
wanted  to  fool  her.  The  request  was  granted.  Note 
in  the  illustration  his  shoes  on  the  ground.  This  pic- 
ture is  from  an  old  daguerrotype  loaned  me  by  Mr. 
Boswell,  who  is  still  living  in  Laramie,  hale  and  hearty 
at  the  age  of  87. 

To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  duties  and 
determination  of  this  man  Boswell,  as  a  deputy  U.  S. 
marshal,  I  will  relate  one  circumstance  told  me  by  an 
old-time  banker  of  Laramie  City.  A  very  bad  char- 
acter in  that  country  had  committed  an  offense 
against  the  U.  S.  government  and  the  chief  marshal, 
Jeff  Carr,  sent  for  Boswell  and  instructed  him  to  fol- 
low and  arrest  this  man,  if  he  had  to  kill  him.  If 
killed,  to  bring  in  some  evidence  of  his  death.  Bos- 
well took  the  fellow's  trail,  both  being  mounted  a,nd 
armed.  They  were  known  to  be  two  of  the  best  rifle 
shots  in  Wyoming.  The  criminal  was  heading  for  the 
notorious  Jackson  Hole  in  northwestern  Wyoming. 
Boswell  knew  if  he  reached  there  that  his  chance  for 
capturing  the  criminal  was  lost,  as  no  one  was  ever 
arrested  in  that  almost  unknown,  mountainous  and 
wild  country.  Boswell  was  well  mounted  and  gained 
on  his  quarry  rapidly.  On  the  fourth  day  he  was  six 
hours  behind  him  at  a  ranch  kept  by  a  Canadian 
Frenchman,  a  friend  of  Bosweirs.  On  questioning  this 
man,  he  told  Boswell  that  his  man  slept  in  his  ranch 
that  night,  and  had  left  two  hours  previous  to  Bos- 
weirs  arrival.  Boswell  changed  horses  and  proceeded 
on  his  way.  The  Frenchman  wanted  to  accompany 
him.  Boswell  informed  him  that  having  his  family 
to  care  for,  he  had  better  remain  at  his  ranch.  After 
Boswell  left,  "Frenchy,"  knowing  how  desperate  the 
criminal  was,  saddled  his  horse  and  cutting  the  corners 


Page  125  HARDKNOCKS 

across  country,  managed  to  get  in  advance  of  the 
hunted.  Finally  Bos  well  discovered  his  man.  The 
man  also  saw  Boswell.  They  both  dismounted,  getting 
behind  rocks  for  shelter.  It  was  now  a  battle  of  wits. 
Boswell  resorted  to  the  old  trick  of  putting  his  hat 
on  a  stick  and  putting  it  in  sight  in  hopes  of  drawing 
the  other's  fire.  But  the  trick  did  not  work.  Pres- 
ently Boswell  heard  a  gun  shot,  and  was  surprised 
that  it  came  from  the  north.  He  was  amazed  to  see 
a  man  in  the  distance,  mounted,  waving  his  hat  to 
him  to  come  on.  After  some  time,  he  realized  that  it 
was  his  friend  "Frenchy."  Cautiously  going  to  him, 
he  was  informed  that  he  had  shot  the  criminal  through 
the  head.  Both  going  over  to  the  spot,  found  it  to  be  a 
fact.  It  being  too  far  to  take  the  body  to  Cheyenne, 
Boswell  decapitated  it  and  took  the  head  to  Cheyenne 
as  evidence.  Those  were  trying  days  in  the  West., 
and  required  men  of  nerve  and  steel.  Boswell  was  of 
that  caliber. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  128 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MORE  BAD  INDIANS— THE  BAD  INDIAN  BOY— BEEF 
CATTLE  ISSUES— POWDER  AND  LEAD  VERSUS  GEW- 
GAWS —  INDIAN  COWARDICE  —  OLD  THUNDER'S 
TOSS-UP—SIOUX  ENUMERATION— THE  PUPPY  DOG 
FEAST  AND  WHAT  IT  ACCOMPLISHED. 

IT  would  take  a  long  time  to  enumerate  all  of  the 
bad  Indians  and  boys.  An  Indian  named  "Bad 
Hand" — the  name  given  on  account  of  a  defective 
hand,  had  a  son  about  ten  years  old.  One  day  near 
noon-time,  as  we  were  going  to  dinner  in  the  slab- 
house  heretofore  referred  to,  the  stockade  not  yet 
being  finished,  this  boy  slipped  up  behind  an  old  man 
named  Evans,  a  carpenter,  and  with  an  arrow  from  a 
small  bow,  shot  him  in  the  back,  just  below  the 
shoulder  blade,  the  arrow  penetrating  his  back  about 
six  inches.  I  was  a  few  steps  behind  the  boy  when  he 
shot.  Evans  fell,  badly  hurt.  The  arrow  shaft  stick- 
ing from  his  back  about  eight  inches.  After  the 
shooting  this  boy  ran  away  laughing  and  the  Indians, 
young  and  old,  made  great  fun  of  it.  I  want  to 
mentioned  here  that  the  Sioux  Indians  encourage  their 
boys  in  everything  that  was  bad,  and  taught  them 
from  infancy  to  hate  the  white  man.  I  have  seen 
little  children  unable  to  walk  grin  at  a  white  man  in 
a  hideous  way,  showing  their  intense  hatred  while  yet 
unable  to  talk. 

We  carried  Evans  into  the  bunk  house  and  in 
trying  to  pull  the  arrow  out,  pulled  the  shaft  out  of 
the  point,  which  was  made  of  hoop  iron.  We  had  no 
doctor  there  at  the  time,  and  it  was  a  question  how  to 
extract  this  point.  Monahan,  using  his  knife,  cut  into 
the  flesh,  then  taking  a  pair  of  nippers,  he  extracted 
the  point,  old  Evans  howling  for  mercy.  The  Indians 
remarked  that  he  was  not  brave.  We  fixed  the  old 


Page  127  HARD   KNOCKS 

man  up  the  best  we  could  and  shipped  him  down  to 
Fort  Laramie,  where  he  died  from  the  wound.  Bad 
Hand  praised  his  boy  for  the  deed  and  called  him  a 
great  brave  and  thus  the  matter  ended. 

After  being  on  the  Agency  for  some  time,  I  was 
given  charge  of  the  cattle  herd.  At  this  particular 
time  we  issued  to  the  Sioux  one  thousand  head  of 
cattle  per  month,  five  hundred  on  the  first  and  five 
hundred  on  the  fifteenth.  Leaving  the  agency  on  the 
twenty-fifth,  my  duty  was  to  ride  forty-five  miles  to 
the  beef  contractor's  range.  *  With  me  there  was  one 
white  man  and  twenty  Indians.  On  arriving  at  the 
range,  I  gave  to  Mr.  Bozler,  who  had  the  cattle  con- 
tract, an  order  issued  by  the  agent  for  one  thousand 
head.  On  receiving  the  cattle,  I  receipted  for  them 
and  drove  them  toward  the  agency  about  twenty 
miles.  Early  the  following  morning,  we  would  com- 
plete the  drive  to  the  agency.  The  object  of  having 
those  Indians  with  me  was  to  protect  the  cattle  from 
northern  Indians  who  did  not  belong  on  the  agency. 
Without  this  protection  they  would  rush  into  the 
herd,  selecting  cows  which  were  with  calf,  as  an  un- 
born calf,  either  cow  or  buffalo,  was  a  great  delicacy 
with  the  Sioux. 

On  arriving  at  the  agency,  we  would  rest  the  cattle 
up  until  the  first  and  then  make  the  issue.  We  drove 
them  into  a  large  corral,  two  mounted  men  accompany- 
ing them.  As  an  exit,  we  built  a  gate  large  enough 
for  a  steer  to  go  through.  Over  the  top  of  this  gate 
was  a  wide  plank  on  which  I  stood  with  a  long  pole 
with  a  spike  in  the  end  of  it.  On  the  prairie  outside 
of  this  corral  were  approximately  five  thousand  In- 
dians, squaws,  children  and  dogs.  Joe  Bessnet,  with 
the  commissary  clerk  and  the  principal  Indians  of  the 
various  tribes,  stood  on  a  platform  near  the  gate.  The 
interpreter  would  call  out,  "Young,  let  out  twenty 
head  for  Red  Cloud's  band."  I  would  open  the  gate 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  128 

to 

and  the  mounted  men  would  force  the  cattle  out.  I 
would  count  them  and  when  the  required  number  was 
out,  would  punch  the  others  back  and  close  the  gate. 

Indians  belonging  to  Red  Cloud's  band  would  then 
attack  the  cattle,  using  guns,  bow  and  arrows,  and 
also  spears,  until  they  killed  them  all.  This  was 
repeated  until  the  issue  was  complete,  and  I  assure 
you  that  this  was  a  gala  sight  and  a  great  deal  of  fun 
was  witnessed.  Many  of  the  cattle  were  wounded,  and 
the  Indians,  children  and  squaws  being  dressed  in 
gaudy  colors,  the  wounded  steers  would  attack  them. 
Then  there  was  a  scampering  to  get  under  cover,  some 
crawling  up  on  the  corral,  others  running  in  all 
directions,  chijdren  crying  and  Indians  laughing.  Then 
came  the  squaws  part.  As  soon  as  the  cattle  were 
pronounced  dead,  the  squaws,  children  and  dogs 
gathered  around  the  carcass,  first  skinning  it,  then 
cutting  out  the  tongue.  The  buck  who  had  killed  the 
animal,  sat  there  on  horse  back  waiting  for  the  tail 
of  the  hide  to  he  handed  him,  with  which  he  started 
on  a  dead  run"  for  the  trading  store.  There  he  ex- 
changed it  for  powder  and  lead  and  a  few  beads  for  the 
squaws. 

In  the  meantime,  the  squaws  were  removing  the 
entrails.  The  older  ones  putting  one  of  the  small 
intestines  in  their  mouths  and  chewing  while  the 
process  was  going  on,  the  dogs  coming  in  for  their 
share  as  well.  They  would  allow  nothing  to  go  to 
waste;  and  even  now  I  can  picture  them  as  they 
appeared  at  that  particular  time.  All  were  as  busy 
as  bees,  chewing  away,  the  offal  continually  running 
from  the  corners  of  their  mouths.  It  was  sickening 
sight.  They  then  cut  the  flesh  in  long  strips,  loading 
it  crosswise  on  their  pony's  backs  with  all  they  could 
carry.  They  would  then  start  for  their  permanent 
camps.  On  arrival  there  they  would  hang  this  flesh 
on  poles  with  crotch  sticks  for  uprights.  This  was  for 


Page  129  HARDKNOCKS 

the  purpose  of  sun-drying  it.  A  portion  of  this  was 
handled  in  the  following  manner  for  future  use.  They 
took  the  flesh  and  with  large  knives  chopped  it  up 
very  fine,  mixing  with  it  either  plums,  cherries 
or  berries,  whichever  was  in  season,  using  the  entire 
fruit,  which  they  pounded  together,  giving  it  the 
appearance  of  pulp.  Then  they  took  a  green  bladder 
and  filled  it  with  this  material,  tying  it  tightly  with 
a  thong. 

When  an  Indian  had  a  long  journey  to  make,  he 
took  with  him  one  or  two  of  those  bladders,  and  it 
is  wonderful  how  long  they  could  subsist  on  this 
material. 

Again  referring  to  issue  day,  I  wish  to  cite  a  com- 
ical occurrence.  Before  issuing  the  cattle  early  in 
the  morning,  Ben  Tibbetts  would  come  down  to  the 
corral  with  his  Winchester  gun,  and  all  the  discarded 
old  bucks  and  squaws  trailing  behind  him,  as  these 
were  the  people  he  had  to  care  for.  Entering  the 
corral,  Ben  would  shoot  down  twenty  head  of  cattle 
and  with  a  mule  would  drag  them  out  on  the 
prairie.  The  squaws  and  old  men  would  skin  them, 
remove  the  entrails,  which  became  their  property.  He 
then  would  have  the  beef  hauled  to  the  Agency,  part 
of  it  being  kept  for  the  use  of  the  white  men  and  the 
balance  issued  daily  to  the  old  men  and  squaws. 
Among  these  old  men  was  an  Indian  named  Thunder, 
bent  over  with  age,  until  his  hands  were  not  over  a 
foot  from  the  ground,  and  when  he  moved  he  looked 
as  though  he  might  be  walking  on  four  legs.  This 
old  fellow  was  a  hideous  sight. 

It  was  a  custom  when  Ben  would  shoot  a  steer  that 
the  first  old  Indian  or  squaw  to  get  to  the  animal, 
was  entitled  to  the  tongue.  They  would  watch  Ben 
closely  and  when  he  shot  and  the  steer  fell,  they  would 
all  rush  and  many,  many  fights  they  had  among  one 
another  making  claim  for  this  tongue.  Ben,  in  his 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  130 

commanding  way,  would  decide  who  was  entitled  to 
the  tongue,  and  that  settled  it. 

Ben  in  one  instance  shot  a  steer  and  the  ball  must 
have  hit  him  a  glancing  blow.  He  fell  all  right,  and 
old  Thunder  being  close  by,  got  there  first,  and  with 
three  others  was  about  to  turn  the  head  over  to 
extract  the  tongue,  when  up  jumped  Mr.  Steer. 
Thunder,  being  less  active  than  the  others,  started  for 
the  side  of  the  corral.  The  steer  seeing  him,  rushed 
at  him,  throwing  him  with  his  horns  up  against  the 
fence,  knocking  old  Thunder  out.  After  this  occur- 
rence they  were  very  careful  to  know  that  a  steer  was 
truly  dead  before  they  went  near  him. 

At  these  issues  the  very  young  children  came  in 
for  their  fun ;  while  we  were  issuing  the  cattle,  they 
would  shoot  arrows  from  their  small  bows  into  them. 
The  steer  hit,  would,  of  course,  bellow,  which  would 
create  a  great  deal  of  laughter.  They  would  continue 
to  do*  this  as  we  had  no  power  to  stop  them,  until 
toward  the  end  those  having  been  hit  would  attack 
the  men  and  horses.  Then,  as  it  was  impossible  for 
those  men  mounted  to  stay  in  there,  the  interpreter 
would  tell  me  to  let  them  all  go.  He  would  then 
harangue  the  Indians,  telling  them  that  we  were  going 
to  do  so,  and  that  they  belonged  to  those  who  could 
kill  them.  They  would  arrange  themselves  on  the 
outside  of  the  gate  and  the  moment  I  opened  it,  it 
would  seem  as  if  Bedlam  had  turned  loose.  I  would 
not  attempt  to  describe  the  excitement  of  this  scene. 
This  ended  issue  day  at  Red  Cloud  Agency. 

In  addition  to  this  cattle  issue,  we  had  a  commis- 
sary issue  once  a  month.  On  this  day  we  issued  flour, 
bacon,  beans,  coffee,  sugar,  molasses  and  corn.  This 
was  another  gala  day,  Indians  coming  from  all  direc- 
tions to  participate  in  it.  At  this  particular  time,  the 
Sioux  would  not  eat  bread,  or  rather,  would  not  make 
it.  They  did  not  seem  to  understand  what  flour  was 


Page  131  HARDKNOCKS 

for.  They  would  accept  the  flour,  the  old  squaws 
carrying  it  out  on  the  prairie,  dump  it  in  a  pile,  shake 
the  sack  well  and  retain  it.  They  were  particularly 
fond  of  flour  sacks. 

I  wish  to  state  here  that  the  squaws  did  all  the 
laborious  work.  The  greatest  disgrace  that  could 
befall  an  Indian  was  to  do  any  kind  of  manual  labor. 
The  squaws  did  it  all.  Referring  again  to  the  bread 
and  seeing  them  continually  dumping  this  flour,  I 
remarked  to  Dr.  Seville,  the  agent,  that  I  thought  I 
could  teach  them  to  use  this  flour  for  making  bread. 
He  replied,  "I  will  let  you  try  it  on  next  issue  day." 
I  did  so  in  the  following  manner :  I  had  our  cook  bake 
up  in  Dutch  ovens  in  the  presence  of  a  great  many 
squaws,  about  six  pones  of  bread.  The  squaws  looked 
on  with  a  great  deal  of  curiosity  at  this  operation. 
I  then  got  a  small  keg  of  molasses,  knocking  the  head 
in,  I  then  broke  off  a  large  piece  of  bread,  and  dipping 
it  down  into  the  molasses,  I  ate  it.  A  hideous  looldng 
old  squaw  stepped  from  the  crowd  and  very  cautiously 
approached  me.  I  dipped  another  piece,  offered  it  to 
her.  She  refused.  I  then  took  another  bite  of  it, 
smacking  my  lips;  then  dipping  it  again,  I  offered  it 
to  her,  and  to  my  surprise  she  snatched  it  from  my 
hands  and  ate  it  ravenously.  They  all  then  rushed 
for  the  bread  and  molasses,  eating  it  all  up,  and  from 
that  time  on  I  never  knew  any  flour  to  go  to  waste. 

Dr.  Seville  received  an  order  from  the  Interior 
Department  to  get  in  some  manner  or  other  a  count 
on  the  number  of  Indians  on  the  agency.  I  wish  the 
reader  to  bear  in  mind  that  this  agency  was  two 
hundred  miles  from  civilization  and  that  there  were 
but  twenty-one  of  us  white  men  employed  there,  and 
if  a  Sioux  objected  to  anything,  that  ended  it  as  far 
as  we  were  concerned. 

The  agent  was  in  a  great  quandry  how  to  approach 
them  to  get  this  count,  for  at  this  particular  time 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  132 

he  well  knew  that  they  were  drawing  more  rations 
than  they  were  entitled  to,  and  also  knew  that  the 
Interior  Department  wanted  this  count  so  as  to  ar- 
range for  their  future  rations.  The  agent  finally 
concluded  to  give  them  a  great  feast  to  make  "their 
hearts  good,"  or  as  we  would  express  it,  to  put  them  in 
good  humor.  He  notified  *  us  boys  to  get  evergreens 
and  decorate  the  immense  commissary  and  not  to  tell 
the  Indians  why  we  were  doing  so,  as  he  wanted  to 
surprise  them.  After  the  decorations  were  complete, 
he  then  notified  the-  prominent  chiefs  that  the  great 
father  in  Washington  had  ordered  him  to  give  them 
a  great  feast. 

One  of  the  Indian  delicacies  was  young  pups.  The 
agent  had  the  old  squaws  for  about  a  week  gathering 
up  all  the  pups  they  could,  bringing  them  into  the 
agency.  Ben  Tibbetts  took  charge  of  the  preparation 
for  this  feast.  On  the  day  appointed  he  had  the  old 
squaws  build  numerous  fires,  and  using  large  camp 
kettles,  stew  these  pups,  making  many,  many  gallons 
of  it.  When  all  was  ready,  the  white  men  carried 
it  in  tin  receptacles  holding  about  a  quart,  and  we 
acted  as  waiters,  the  old  squaws  dishing  it  out  and  we 
white  men  serving  it.  I  don't  know  any  time  that  I 
was  as  completely  worn  out  as  I  was  after  that  feast. 

After  they  had  eaten  all  they  cared  to,  the  agent, 
through  the  chief  interpreter,  addressed  them,  in- 
forming them  that  the  great  father  in  Washington 
wanted  to  know  how  many  children  he  had  to  take 
care  of  the  next  year,  and  asked  them  if  they  would 
allow  him  to  count  them.  To  simplify  the  matter,  he 
figured  on  averaging  them  five  to  a  lodge.  This  would 
hasten  the  work  as  we  would  then  only  haye  to  count 
their  lodges.  When  Bissnet  interpreted  this  to  them, 
there  was  a  great  commotion.  However,  Red  Cloud 
and'  other  powerful  chiefs,  who  were  seated  on  the 
floor  in  front,  quieted  them. 


Page  133  HARDKNOCKS 

When  order  had  been  restored,  Red  Cloud  rose 
gradually  from  a  sitting  position  and  when  erect  he 
put  out  his  right  hand  with  the  palm  toward  the 
North.  I  don't  believe  a  finer  physique  than  his  ever 
stood  on  two  feet.  He  was  over  six  feet  tall,  perfectly 
built  and  was  Nature's  own  child.  He  then  replied 
to  the  agent  in  a  long  speech,  giving  a  history  of  the 
Sioux  from  his  childhood  up  to  that  time,  stating  how 
they  had  fought  their  way  from  the  far  North;  how 
they  came  in  to  be  civilized  like  the  white  man ;  how 
they  had  conquered  and  driven  other  tribes  before 
them;  how  Lad  white  men  enticed  his  people  to  buy 
liquor;  how  they  debauched  their  children,  stole  their 
lands  and  horses,  and  now  cooped  them  up  in  a  little 
corner  of  their  vast  domain ;  and  now  the  great  father 
wanted  to  know  how  many  there  were  of  them  left. 
He  then  said,  "Yes,  we  will  let  you  count  our  lodges." 
This  pleased  the  agent  so  that  he  clapped  his  hands, 
jumping  around  like  a  child  with  glee.  Red  Cloud 
watched  him,  not  saying  a  word  until  the  agent 
quieted  down,  then  he  continued,  "but  in  return  for 
this,  we  want  the  great  father  to  issue  to  each  grown 
Indian  a  Winchester  gun  and  forty  rounds  of  ammu- 
nition. The  change  on  the  agent's  face  was  indescrib- 
able, for  at  that  time  the  Government  were  thinking 
seriously  of  disarming  them,  and  they  knew  it.  The 
poor  agent  had  nothing  more  to  say.  The  Indians 
arose,  walking  in  single  file  out  of  the  commissary, 
and  the  agent  with  his  interpreter  retired  to  his 
quarters.  This  was  a  case  of  love's  labor  lost,  for 
the  lodges  were  never  counted. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  134 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  SIOUX  LANGUAGE— RISE  OF  THE  TOBACCO  HABIT 
—THE  YOUNG  SQUAW  AND  HER  DOMESTIC  HABITS 
—COURTSHIP  AND  MARRIAGE— SIOUX  THEORY  OF 
ORIGIN  OF  INDIANS— A  SIOUX  HALF-BREED'S  ES- 
CAPE FROM  CHEYENNE  JAIL. 

MUCH  has  been  said  and  written  about  the 
Sioux  language.  It  is  quite  difficult  for  an 
interpreter  to  translate  English  into  Sioux 
or  Sioux  into  English,  as  the  Sioux 
language  has  few  words  compared  with 
English,  and  interpreting  either  one  to  the  other  is  by 
no  means  easy.  In  fact,  the  interpreter  adds  or  re- 
tracts, to  suit  the  occasion.  For  instance,  if  he  does 
not  exactly  understand  just  what  the  Sioux  wishes 
understood,  he  in  his  judgment  tells  what  he  thinks 
would  be  satisfactory  to  both  parties  concerned,  and 
in  doing  this  it  creates  many  misunderstandings  in 
their  future  dealings.  Another  trait  of  the  Sioux,  if 
he  see  anything  new  to  him,  by  some  action  of  this 
object  he  gives  it  a  Sioux  name.  As  an  illustration, 
the  first  sawmill  that  they  saw  in  operation  they  called 
it  a  slush  lush  la  tepee.  The  slush  lush  part  of  this 
name  was  the  noise  made  by  the  exhaust  pipe  where 
the  steam  escaped,  making  the  sound  slush  lush.  Tepee 
in  Sioux  means  a  house,  tent  or  lodge,  or  anything  one 
might  live  in. 

I  have  known  commissioners  being  sent  out  to  the 
Agency  by  the  Government  to  make  new  treaties  with 
the  Sioux,  and  the  interpretation  through  the  interpre- 
ter was  very  misleading  when  they  attempted  to  put 
them  into  practical  operation.  This  was  caused  as 
stated  above  by  the  interpreter  misquoting  what  the 
Indian  and  commissioners  intended,  thus  causing  a 
great  deal  of  trouble. 


Page  135  HARDKNOCKS 

When  I  first  went  on  the  Agency,  the  Indian  was 
not  a  tobacco  smoker.  They  smoked  in  their  Indian 
pipes  what  was  called  Kinna  Kinick.  This  was  made 
from  a  red  willow.  With  their  knives  they  would 
scrape  off  the  red  part  very  carefully,  then  scrape  the 
main  part,  which  they  dried  in  the  sun.  This  caused  it 
to  curl  up  similar  to  shavings.  After  it  was  thoroughly 
dried,  they  chopped  it  up  very  fine  and  put  it  into  a 
little  beaded  bag  made  of  buckskin.  Their  pipes  in 
which  they  smoked  this  material  were  of  a  soft  clay 
that  they  dug  from  bluffs.  It  was  of  a  red  color.  They 
dried  this,  which  made  it  very  hard.  They  then,  with 
very  crude  tools,  a  knife  being  the  principal  one,  shaped 
into  a  pipe  of  various  designs,  and  on  the  bowls  of  these 
pipes  they  made  figures,  generally  a  deer  or  a  bear. 
They  then  inserted  in  the  bowl  a  long  stem.  How  they 
bored  the  hole  through  this  stem,  I  do  not  know.  This 
stem  was  also  carved;  some  of  them  were  flat  and 
others  round.  In  smoking  they  would  take  twot  or 
three  draws  and  pass  it  to  the  Indian  sitting  to  their 
left,  and  keep  doing  so  until  the  pipe  was  empty. 

In  due  time  they  began  the  use  of  tobacco.  They 
first  had  the  white  man  roll  it  in  paper,  making  a  cigar- 
ette, and  they  finally  became  very  expert  in  making 
them  themselves.  However,  the  older  Indians  stuck 
to  their  pipes,  but  the  younger  ones  became  inveterate 
cigarette  smokers,  and  I  never  recollect  at  any  time 
seeing  them  smoking  a  pipe  containing  tobacco. 

Many  of  the  young  squaws  before  marriage  were 
very  pretty  and  coquettish,  painted  and  dressed  up  in 
gaudy  colors ;  many  of  them  wearing  fine  beaded  work 
and  other  ornaments  too  numerous  to  mention.  Thus 
attired  they  made  it  a  practice  to  come  around  the 
Agency  in  large  numbers  in  the  afternoons,  meeting 
the  young  bucks  and  exchanging  signs  of  admiration. 
They  had  a  peculiar  mode  of  courtship.  The  young 
buck  who  wished  to  marry  had  the  courting  done  for 
him  in  the  following  manner: 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  136 

His  most  intimate  friend  would  run  after  and  catch 
a  young  squaw,  throwing  a  blanket  over  her,  which 
covered  them  both.  This  was  called  blanketing.  While 
holding  her  in  close  embrace,  he  would  tell  her  of  all 
the  good  traits  of  his  friend;  how  rich  he  was  in 
horses,  buffalo  robes,  etc.;  how  daring  and  brave  he 
was,  and  what  a  fine  brave  he  would  make  for  her. 
During  this  blanketing  act  the  prospective  groom 
would  stand  at  a  respective  distance,  arms  folded, 
silent  and  erect  as  a  statute.  (I  wonder  how  many 
white  men  would  have  cared  to  go  through  court- 
ship in  this  manner.  I  think  they  would  have  drawn 
the  line  at  the  part  the  friend  was  to  play).  If  she 
consented  to  have  his  friend,  he  released  her  and  she 
ran  like  a  deer  to  her  lodge  and  father.  The  brave 
then^  erected  a  lodge,  fitting  it  out  with  the  necessary 
cooking  utensils,  and  immediately  began  negotiations 
with  her  father.  He  would  lead  a  pony  up  to  her 
lodge  and  himself  stand  there  for  a  limited  time.  If 
her  father  did  not  appear,  he  would  bring  another 
pony  and  continue  bringing  ponies  and  robes  until  her 
father  appeared,  leading  her  by  the  hand.  This  was  a 
sign  that  full  value  had  been  tendered  for  the  girl. 

This  simple  ceremony  of  marriage  was  all  that  was 
required  among  the  Indians.  The  groom  and  bride 
would  then  start  for  his  lodge  in  single  file,  the  squaw 
in  front.  She  was  now  his  beast  of  burden  for  life. 
The  Indians  were  polygamous,  many  of  them  having 
as  many  as  six  wives.  Oft  times  these  wives  were 
jealous  of  each  other,  and  it  was  not  unusual  for  them 
to  settle  their  differences  by  engaging  in  desperate 
fights,  in  which  knives  were  freely  used.  On  these 
occasions  the  brave  would  take  no  part,  simply  looking 
on  with  the  greatest  unconcern. 

I  have  often  wondered  why  scientists  have  never 
investigated  the  origin  of  the  Sioux.  I  have  my  own 


Page  137  HARDKNOCKS 

ideas,  which  have  been  growing  stronger  since  I  came 
to  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  am  quite  sure  that  the  Sioux 
originally  came  from  the  Orient,  and  were  of  Asiatic 
origin.  Their  characteristics  were  very  similar  to 
those  of  the  Chinese  in  many  respects.  Indians,  on 
being  questioned,  have  proved  to  have  poor  memories, 
their  childhood  being  the  limit  of  their  remembrance, 
The  oldest  of  them  have  invariably  conveyed  the 
meaning  by  signs  that  they  came  from  the  north,  and 
I  shall  always  think  they  originally  came  from  China, 
which  might  easily  be  conceded  to,  as  the  Behring  Sea 
of  North  America  and  Siberia  joining  China,  they 
could  easily  have  landed  in  North  America  in  canoes, 
then  becoming  meat  and  fish  eaters,  they  would 
naturally  grow  more  stalwart  than  the  Chinaman. 
Their  features  were  much  the  same  as  also  their 
pigeon  English.  Their  funeral  ceremonies  were  ident- 
ical in  form,  food  in  large  quantities  being  taken  to 
the  graves  for  the  dead  and  crying  being  one  of  their 
common  customs,  the  only  exception  being  that  the 
Indian  deposited  his  dead  in  trees. 

In  the  spring  of  1872,  a  young  halfbreed  Sioux, 
named  Tuscon  Kessler,  while  under  the  influence  of  bad 
whiskey,  rode  up  to  a  cabin  situated  on  the  Laramie 
River  above  Fort  Laramie,  and  calling  to  the  door  an 
old,  Harmless  Mexican,  who  followed  the  occupation  of 
a  wood  chopper,  shot  and  killed  him.  Later  on  he  was 
captured  and  taken  to  Cheyenne,  where  he  was  tried, 
convicted  and  sentenced  to  be  hung.  About  six 
o'clock  in  the  evening  previous  to  the  execution,  he 
made  his  escape.  This  was  a  very  mysterious  occur- 
rence, no  one  seeming  to  know  how  he  escaped  and  it 
is  surmised  that  the  death-watch,  in  connection  with 
some  other  official,  had  been  paid  a  sum  of  money  to 
help  this  fellow  escape. 

When  Kessler  left  the  jail,  he  was  shackled  at  the 
feet,  the  chain  being  about  six  inches  long.  He  was 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  138 

also  handcuffed.  In  the  rear  of  this  jail  was  a  stable, 
where  the  sheriff  kept  his  coal  black  saddle  horse, 
considered  the  best  in  Wyoming.  How  he  succeeded  in 
bridling  this  horse  and  getting  on  his  bare  back,  no  one 
ever  knew.  If  he  did,  he  never  told.  Lying  on  his 
stomach,  his  feet  being  over  the  loins  of  the  horse,  his 
hands  would  naturally  be  over  his  weathers,  and  in  this 
way  he  could  hold  the  bridle  rein  and  guide  the  horse. 
At  about  six  thirty  o'clock  in  the  morning,  he  arrived 
at  the  Platte  River,  which  was  ninety  miles  distant 
from  Cheyenne.  Swimming  the  horse  across  the  river, 
he  arrived  at  Nick  Jennesse's  ranch.  Nick  released  his 
feet  and  hands  by  breaking  the  shackles,  and  furnished 
him  a  fresh  horse  on  which  he  continued  on  north  and 
joined  the  Sioux  Indians.  This  Jennessee  was  what 
was  termed  a  squaw  man  and  was  living  there  with  a 
Sioux  squaw.  As  stated  previously,  any  Sioux  or  SiOux 
half-breed  committing  any  depredation  .south  of  the 
Platte  Riyer,  was  free  if  he  could  get  to  the  north  side 
before  being  captured,  as  the  sheriff  or  soldiers  could 
not  follow  him  under  existing  conditions  at  that  time. 
In  1874,  while  I  was  employed  on  Red  Cloud  Agency, 
I  saw  and  talked  with  this  fellow  a  great  many  times. 
He  was  dressed  in  Indian  attire  completely ;  his  face 
painted  in  many  colors,  and  was  wearing  the  breech- 
clout,  blanket  and  moccasins.  The  authorities  offered 
a  standing  reward  of  one  thousand  dollars  for  his 
capture,  dead  or  alive. 

In  1878,  a  young  lieutenant  stationed  at  Camp 
Robinson,  came  over  to  Red  Cloud  Agency  in  an  am- 
bulance, accompanied  by  four  soldiers.  Kessler,  with 
some  other  Indians  was  sitting  on  the  bank  of  the 
White  River,  when  the  ambulance  stopped,  and  an  old 
Indian  stepped  up  to  the  officer  and  in  his  pigeon 
English  told  him  that  one  of  the  Indians  was  Kessler, 
at  the  same  time  pointing  a  finger  at  the  latter. 
Kessler,  always  on  the  alert,  witnessed  the  action  and 


Page  139  HARDKNOCKS 

immediately  started  to  run,  the  officer  shot  at  him, 
striking  him  in  the  left  hip  and  disabling  him.  Before 
the  Indians  standing  around  could  regain  their  senses, 
the  officer  called  to  the  ambulance  driver  and  throwing 
Kessler  in  the  wagon,  took  him  to  Camp  Robinson, 
and  under  a  strong  guard  of  soldiers  that  night, 
started  with  him  for  Cheyenne,  arriving  there  in 
safety  and  turning  him  over  to  Jeff  Carr,  who  was 
sheriff  at  the  time,'  and  in  a  few  days  receiving  the 
reward,  returned  to  Camp  Robinson.  This  was  a  very 
nervy  act,  and  it  is  miraculous  that  he  got  away  with 
it.  They  then  tried  to  get  Kessler  to  confess  as  to 
how  he  made  his  escape,  but  he  was  true  blue  and 
would  not  do  so. 

In  a  short  time  Kessler  was  hanged  and  while 
standing  on  the  scaffold,  the  sheriff  asked  him  if  he 
had  any  request  to  make.  He  replied, 

"Yes.  The  white  men  in  this  country  whom  I 
hate,  yourself  included,  have  gloated  over  the  fact 
that  I  would  die  with  my  boots  on,"  and  at  the  same 
time  asked  the  sheriff  to  remove  them,  which  he  did. 
Kessler  then  said,  "Let  her  go."  They  put  on  the 
black  cap,  after  adjusting  the  noose,  sprung  the  trap 
and  thus  ended  the  career  of  a  very  bad  half -breed 
Sioux. 

After  the  Sioux  war  of  1876,  much  was  talked  and 
written  about  that  famous  scout,  Frank  Geruard, 
whom  I  knew  well.  Many  have  the  idea  that  he  was  a 
Sioux  Indian.  This  is  a  mistake,  as  I  happen  to  know 
his  history,  as  told  to  me  by  himself. 

In  1860,  a  lady  named  Mrs.  Peal,  the  wife  of  an 
army  officer,  was  in  Honolulu  for  her  health.  There 
she  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  parents  of  this  boy. 
She  became  fascinated  with  the  little  fellow  and 
adopted  him,  bringing  him  with  her  to  Fort  Laramie. 
Two  months  after  her  arrival  the  child  was  playing 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  140 

in  the  rear  of  her  quarters,  when  a  Sioux  chief  named 
Crazy  Horse  saw  the  child,  and  no  one  being  in  sight, 
he  threw  a  blanket  over  the  youngster  and  rode  off 
with  him  to  the  nortH,  to  his  camp. 

This  Indian  was  a  powerful  chief  and  becoming 
attached  to  the  child,  kept  him  prisoner  there  until 
1876,  when  Geruard  escaped  and  coming  to  Fort 
Laramie,  offered  his  services  to  General  Crook.  Crook 
refused  him,  thinking  him  a  Sioux  Indian.  Geruard 
then  went  to  General  Smith,  who  was  in  command  at 
the  post,  and"  told  him  who  he  was.  Smith  immedi- 
ately called  on  General  Crook,  advising  him  to  employ 
Geruard,  adding  that  he  (Geruard)  was  very  bitter 
toward  the  Sioux,  knew  their  habits  and  customs,  and 
also  knew  very  much  of  their  country.  Crook  ac- 
cepted him.  Later  on  Miles  succeeded  Crook  and 
retained  the  services  of  Geruard  and  found  him  one  of 
the  most  valuable  men  in  that  capacity,  and  to  this 
man  Geruard  is  due  the  credit  of  the  final  surrender 
of  the  Sioux. 

It  is  said  that  Geruard  approached  General  Miles 
one  day,  saying  to  him :  "If  you  will  follow  a  plan  that 
I  give  you,  we  can  corral  and  kill,  or  force,  these 
fellows  to  surrender  iii  thirty  days.  Miles  asked  him 
how.  Geruard  replied,  "Move  your  troops  rapidly  by 
railroad" — the  Northern  Pacific  being  constructed 
through  Montana — "and  then  get  light  draft  steamers 
on  the  upper  Missouri  River  and  I  will  show  you  where 
to  station  your  troops."  The  Sioux  were  now  re- 
treating north  after  the  Custer  massacre.  He  ex- 
plained to  Miles  that  the  Indians  having  their  families 
with  them  would  be  compelled  to  travel  through 
certain  passes  in  the  mountains  and  cross  rivers  at 
certain  places,  and  that  he  knew  them  all.  Miles 
turning  around,  remarked,  "Trash!"  But  in  thirty 
days  he  did  just  as  Geruard  had  suggested;  Miles 


Page  141  HARD    KNOCKS 

taking  the  credit  to  himself,  for  what  was  accom- 
plished. 

When  the  advance  Sioux  arrived  at  these  passes 
and  river  fords,  they  found  soldiers  there  and  returned 
to  report  the  fact  to  their  chiefs.  The  Indians  then 
realized  that  they  were  corraled  and  the  only  thing 
left  them  to  do  was  to  delegate  three  of  their  prom- 
inent chiefs,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  to  make  the  best 
terms  possible  with  Miles.  Thus  terminated  the 
Sioux  War  of  1876. 

The  last  I  heard  of  Geruard,  he  was  living  in 
obscurity  on  the  Laramie  River,  some  twenty  miles 
above  Fort  Laramie,  old  and  penniless.  And  it^is  a 
shame  that  this  great  government  does  not  provide  a 
pension  for  such  faithful  servants. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  142 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MORE  ABOUT  THE  INDIANS— SIOUX  WARFARE— DE- 
SCRIPTION OF  A  SIOUX  WAR  DANCE— THE  KOO 
STICK  EXPLAINED— HOW  SCALPING  IS  DONE— THE 
SIOUX  SUN  DANCE  DESCRIBED— SUN  WORSHIPPERS 
SELECTING  THE  VIRGINS— HORRIBLE  TORTURE  OF 
YOUNG  BRAVES. 

I  WILL  describe  one  of  the  Sioux  war  dances, 
which  was  held  in  the  Agency  stockade  some 
time  after  the  murder  of  the  old  men  and  women 
of  the  Pawnee  tribe  previously  referred  to : 

The  Sioux  had  many  scalps  and  carried  them 
tied  to  the  chin  straps  of  their  ponies'  bridles  or 
arranged  them  on  long  spears.  They  were  all  painted 
in  their  war  paint,  all  mounted,  the  most  prominent 
Indians  sitting  in  a  very  large  circle,  and  on  the  out- 
side of  this  circle  were  the  squaws,  children  and  old 
men.  One  of  these  young  bucks  would  ride  his  horse 
into  the  circle,  suddenly  stopping.  This  horse  had 
many  hand  marks  painted  on  his  body,  generally  in 
white.  Many  of  these  marks  in  close  proximity  to 
the  rider.  This  was  to  show  what  desperate  en- 
counters he  had  had  with  the  enemy;  how  close  he 
was  to  him.  These  marks  meaning  the  enemy's  hand 
prints.  He  would  then  tell  how  he  shot  the  enemy 
and  how  he  scalped  him,  at  the  same  time  pointing 
to  the  scalp.  The  old  Indians  sitting  in  the  circle 
would  applaud  them ;  the  old  and  young  squaws  doing 
likewise. 

After  a  number  of  these  young  bucks  had  gone 
through  this  ceremony,  the  old  squaws  would  start 
their  war  cry.  All  the  Indians  present  would  rise  to 
their  feet,  forming  a  great  circle.  A  young  buck 
would  then  place  on  end  a  spear  with  a  scalp  attached, 
the  old  squaws  beating  their  torn  toms,  they  would 


Page  143  HARDKNOCKS 

then  begin  their  dance,  going  through  all  kinds  of 
antics,  which  at  times  were  yery  comical.  They  would 
continue  this  for  hours,  until  they  became  exhausted. 
These  fellows  are  great  braggarts,  for  as  a  fact  they 
had  no  trouble  in  killing  these  poor  old  Pawnees. 

For  the  benefit  of  the  reader,  I  will  explain  one  of 
their  characteristics.  Every  young  Sioux  warrior 
when  on  murder  bent,  carries  what  is  called  a  koo 
stick.  It  is  about  twelve  inches  long.  This  is  used  for 
the  following  purpose: 

If  two  young  Sioux  should  both  shoot  and  kill  an 
enemy,  the  one  getting  to  him  first  and  touching  him 
with  this  koo  stick  gets  the  credit  of  killing  him  and 
is  entitled  to  his  scalp.  When  telling  of  their  ex- 
ploits, they  term  it  counting  their  koos,  meaning 
by  that  the  number  they  have  killed. 

All  Indians  wear  what  they  term  their  scalp  lock. 
This  is  made  at  the  top  of  the  head  of  a  space  about 
the  size  of  a  silver  dollar.  They  gather  the  hair  up 
and  plait  it,  its  length  being  about  six  inches.  To 
this  they  usually  attach  a  colored  feather.  In  scalping 
the  enemy,  they  seize  the  scalp  lock  and  with  the  point 
of  their  scalping  knife,  cut  the  scalp  in  this  space 
mentioned  and  with  a  sudden  motion  pull  it  from  the 
head.  Were  this  victim  a  white  man,  they  would 
sometimes  take  his  entire  hair,  then  cutting  it  up 
into  three  or  four  pieces,  claim  that  they  had  killed 
three  or  four  white  men,  while  as  a  fact  they  had 
killed  but  one.  When  they  returned  to  their  camp, 
the  squaws  dressed  these  scalps,  using  almost  the 
same  process  that  they  would  in  tanning  a  buffalo 
hide.  This  preserves  it.  The  young  buck  then  attaches 
it  to  his  person  and  when  they  have  their  war  dances, 
exposes  it  as  I  have  previously  described. 

In  my  time  on  the  Agency,  the  Sioux  were  sun 
worshippers  and  once  a  year,  usually  in  the  month 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  144 

of  May,  they  held  their  sun  dance.  The  whole  Sioux 
nation  attended  this  as  it  was  a  religious  ceremony 
with  them.  They  were  all  decked  out  in  their  best  bib 
and  tucker  and  were  a  wonderful  sight  to  look  upon. 
Early  in  the  morning  before  sunrise,  they  congre- 
gated on  the  west  side  of  a  long,  high  ridge,  when 
suddenly  one  of  their  chiefs  would  harangue  them. 
They  would  then  lie  down  on  their  stomachs  close  to 
the  earth  and  as  the  sun  appeared,  they  would  gradu- 
ally rise  with  it,  and  when  the  sun  had  risen  clear 
of  the  ride,  they  were  all  standing  erect.  I  never 
could  understand  how  they  kept  pace  in  rising  with  the 
sun,  but  they  did  nevertheless.  They  would  then  bow 
very  low  three  times,  holding  their  arms  erect  with 
their  palms  toward  the  sun.  Suddenly  there  was  a 
great  commotion  and  a  hideously  dressed  Indian, 
mounted  and  making  motions  at  the  assembled  In- 
dians, ten  or  fifteen  of  them  would  suddenly  step  out 
in  front  and  shoot  with  their  guns  at  this  fellow.  He 
was  their  great  medicine  man  and  was  bullet  proof. 

Ben  Tibbetts  and  I  witnessed  this  act  and  after 
they  had  quit  shooting,  none  of  the  shots  having 
struck  the  object,  Ben  remarked,  "I  would  like  a 
crack  at  that  fellow  with  my  Winchester,"  and  I 
assure  you  they  would  have  to  make  a  new  medicine 
man.  It  is  a  question  whether  they  shot  to  kill  or 
not.  However,  the  medicine  man  was  unharmed.  In 
a  few  moments  another  one  appeared.  He  passed 
through  the  same  ordeal  without  being  injured.  Then 
four  others  appeared  at  intervals,  all  passing  safely. 

The  next  part  of  the  ceremony  was  the  virgin  pole 
scene.  The  Sioux  kept  a  record  each  year  of  their 
virgins.  To  do  so  the  old  squaws  erected  a  large  pole, 
the  young  girls  forming  themselves  in  a  line,  each  one 
putting  on  an  apron  made  of  deer  skin.  An  old  squaw 
then  handed  her  a  small  hatchet.  The  young  bucks 
in  the  meantime  had  formed  themselves  in  line,  ex- 


Page  145  HARDKNOCKS 

tending,  I  should  judge,  a  quarter  mile,  leaving  a 
space  in  the  center  large  enough  for  the  young  girls 
to  pass  through.  One  of  the  chiefs  then  gave  the 
order  and  the  procession  of  young  girls  passed  up  the 
line  to  the  virgin  pole,  each  one  taking  her  apron 
with  one  hand  by  the  corner,  and  if  she  was  what  she 
represented  herself  to  be,  she  cut  a  chip  from  the 
virgin  pole,  which  dropped  into  her  apron.  She  then 
took  a  position,  waiting  until  the  entire  number 
passed  up  the  line. 

Returning  through  the  line  to  the  starting  point, 
if  the  young  squaw  was  not  what  she  had  repre- 
sented herself  to  be,  a  young  buck,  knowing  so,  would 
expose  her.  She  was  then  taken  by  the  old  squaws 
and  severely  whipped.  On  the  other  hand,  if  she  were 
what  she  represented  herself  to  be,  the  squaws  made 
a  great  ado  over  her,  giving  her  many  presents.  Just 
how  they  registered  them,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do 
know  it  to  be  a  fact  that  they  kept  a  complete  record 
of  them. 

The  next  ceremony  was  the  torture  of  young 
bucks  who  wanted  to  become  braves.  The  squaws 
again  erecting  a  pole,  tying  from  it  near  the  top  long 
thongs  similar  to  our  May  pole.  The  young  men  then 
walked  out,  each  with  a  knife  in  his  hand,  some 
cutting  themselves  on  the  breast  just  through  the 
skin  and  separating  the  skin  from  the  flesh,  then  at- 
taching the  thong.  Others  cut  themselves  in  a,  like 
manner  in  the  back,  inserting  a  thong  and  tying  to 
it  a  buffalo  head  or  beef  head.  Then  they  began 
dancing  in  a  circle,  pulling  against  the  pole  until  they 
tore  the  thong  from  the  flesh.  Others  with  the  heads 
attached,  danced  around  until  the  thong  was  torn  out. 
The  old  men  in  the  meantime  both  praised  and  crit- 
icised their  bravery.  They  were  then  graded  off  as 
full-fledged  warriors.  Those  going  through  the  great- 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  146 

est  amount  of  torture  were  pronounced  great  braves, 
the  others,  merely  braves. 

The  next  ceremony  was  the  piercing  of  their 
children's  ears.  The  squaws  would  sit  down  in  large 
circles  with  a  piece  of  hide  on  their  knee,  and  with 
a  sharp  pointed  knife  in  hand,  would  motion  the 
children  to  them  and  laying  their  ear  on  the  piece  of 
hide,  would  pierce  the  child's  ear  at  the  top  and 
bottom.  And  it  is  wonderful  to  state  that  not  one  of 
those  children  uttered  so  much  as  a  whimper. 

After  going  through  these  ceremonies,  the  as- 
sembly scattered  in  all  directions,  some  runing  pony 
races,  others  gambling,  others  running  foot  races, 
Indian  against  Indian,  or  an  Indian  against  a  horse. 
The  young  bucks  playing  with  the  young  squaws  and 
ending  up  with  a  great  jollification  and  a  feast. 


Page  147  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MORE  CHARACTERISTICS  OF  THE  SIOUX— HOW  THE  IN- 
TERIOR DEPARTMENT  LOST  CONTROL  OF  THE 
SIOUX— UNWRITTEN  HISTORY— MURDER  OF  FRANK 
APPLETON— ONE  TEAR  SHED  BY  RED  CLOUD- 
ORIGIN  OF  CAMP  ROBINSON— THE  JENNY  EXPEDI- 
TION OR  "GOLD  IN  THE  BLACK  HILLS." 

I  AM  now  drawing  near  the  time  when  I  left  the 
Agency,  and  wish  to  mention  two  characteristics 
of  the  Sioux.  Few  readers  of  this  book  have  any 
idea  of  the  origin  of  the  heliograph.  Before  my 
time  among  those  people  they  carried  on  their 
persons  a  round  piece  of  polished  silver,  and  when 
they  wanted  to  get  into  communication  with  others 
of  their  kind,  they  would  ascend  a  high  hill  and  with 
this  piece  of  polished  silver,  would  signal  with  dots 
and  dashes  the  same  as  used  by  our  present  tele- 
graphic code,  this  being  accomplished  by  the  reflection 
of  the  sun.  In  time  it  would  be  answered  by  other 
Indians  a  long  distance  away.  Later  on  and  during 
my  time  among  them,  they  substituted  a  piece  of 
looking  glass  and  one  could  not  find  a  grown  Sioux 
without  this  piece  of  glass  on  his  person.  In  cloudy 
weather  they  substituted  for  this,  grass  smoke.  They 
would  build  a  fire  on  the  hilltop,  immediately  smother 
it  with  grass,  then  holding  a  blanket  or  buffalo  robe 
over  it  by  the  four  corners  until  it  was  filled  with 
smoke.  If  they  wished  to  signal  a  dot,  they  would  let 
out  a  small  quantity  of  smoke.  If  a  dash,  they  would 
let  out  a  larger  quantity.  If  they  wished  to  signal 
by  night,  they  would  build  a  fire,  covering  it  in  the 
same  manner  and  for  a  dot,  they  would  quickly  expose 
the  fire  and  for  a  dash,  a  longer  exposure.  Their 
telegraphic  code  may  not  have  been  so  complete  as 
ours,  but  their  system  was  certainly  the  same.  I  am 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  148 

sure  that  the  credit  of  the  heliograph  should  be  given 
to  General  Custer,  as  he  had  a  large  experience  with 
the  Indians  and  was  conversant  with  their  habits  and 
would  be  the  most  likely  one  to  have  reported  this 
signalling,  when  the  War  Department,  by  experiments, 
invented  the  heliograph.  This  was  used  largely  by  our 
signal  corps  on  the  plains  and  -elsewhere  prior  to  the 
discovery  of  wireless  telegraphy. 

The  Sioux,  as  previously  mentioned,  were  great 
braggarts  and  dreamers.  I  will  cite  you  an  instance 
of  this  characteristic.  In  January,  1874,  they  had 
very  deep  snows  in  Wyoming  and  Nebraska.  This 
made  traffic  difficult  for  freighting  teams.  At  this 
time  a  man  named  Charles  Clay  had  the  contract  for 
freighting  the  supplies  to  Red  Cloud  Agency  from 
Cheyenne.  His  transportation  was  by  ox  teams.  For 
about  thirty  days  he  was  unable  to  get  through  to  the 
Agency  with  these  supplies.  Consequently  we  were 
cempletely  out  of  everything.  The  Indians  in  the 
morning  would  ride  out  on  a  high  hill,  sitting  there 
until  almost  dark,  looking  to  the  south  in  hopes  of 
seeing  these  teams  coming.  They  would  come  into  the 
Agency  at  night  and  report  to  the  agent  that  they 
saw  heaps  of  teams  coming.  At  first  this  was  good 
news  to  us,  but  in  a  couple  of  days  no  teams  arrived. 
They  would  then  repeat  the  operation,  bringing  in  the 
same  news.  They  would  keep  this  up  for  several  days, 
and  as  a  fact,  the  teams  did  not  arrive  for  fifteen 
days.  What  I  wish  to  impress  the  reader  with  is, 
that  the  Indian  having  this  supply  train  in  mind,  and 
not  wanting  to  report  anything  but  good  news,  really 
imagined  he  saw  the  teams,  and  the  of  tener  he  went 
on  this  hilltop,  the  more  he  believed  he  saw  them. 
Before  they  finally  arrived,  the  Indians  were  com- 
pelled to  kill  their  ponies  and  eat  them. 

The  reader  has  probably  read  or  heard  of  the  Sioux 
War  of  1876.  But  few  know  the  actual  causes  that 


Page  149  HARD   KNOCKS 

led  up  to  it.  In  the  month  of  March,  1875,  a  young 
man  arrived  on  the  Agency  named  Frank  Appleton. 
His  father  having  preceded  him  to  the  Agency  to 
teach  the  Sioux  how  to  farm  and  was  termed  "Boss 
Farmer."  Frank  was  the  nephew  of  Dr.  Seville.  Upon 
his  arrival  there  he  was  appointed  chief  clerk  to  the 
agent,  Otis  Johnson  having  retired.  Before  coming  to 
the  Agency  and  while  in  Cheyenne,  he  broke  his  leg 
and  came  to  the  Agency  using  crutches.  We  all  liked 
him  very  much  and  talked  with  him  a  great  deal  about 
his  eastern  home.  He  was  from  Sioux  City,  Iowa. 
He  told  us  in  conversation  that  he  did  not  want  to 
come  out  there,  but  that  his  father  and  Seville  in- 
sisted on  his  coming,  and  while  in  Cheyenne  before 
breaking  his  leg  he  had  a  dream  that  something 
awful  was  going  to  happen,  and  while  on  the  Agency 
he  begged  his  father  and  uncle  to  allow  him  to  return 
to  his  home,  also  telling  them  of  his  dream,  and  they 
laughed  at  him.  Consequently,  he  remained. 

On  April  1st  Dr.  Seville  went  down  to  Spotted  Tail 
Agency,  which  was  forty  miles  north  of  Red  Cloud 
Agency.  His  business  there  was  to  confer  with  their 
agent  in  regard  to  an  order  from  Washington  to 
formulate  some  plans  to  disarm  the  Sioux.  About 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  this  day  an  Indian 
arrived  on  the  Agency.  He  was  not  one  of  our  regular 
Indians,  but  belonged  up  north.  He  had  just  arrived 
from  the  Platte  River  and  stated  that  a  white  man 
had  killed  his  brother  down  there  and  that  in  re- 
taliation he  was  going  to  kill  one  of  us  white  men 
before  he  went  north.  Joe  Bessnet,  the  chief  inter- 
preter, hearing  this  from  the  Indians,  conversed  with 
the  fellow.  He  then  warned  us  white  men  not  to  go  on 
the  outside  of  the  stockade  that  evening  for  fear  this 
fellow  might  carry  out  his  threat.  This  stockade 
was  built  of  lumber  fourteen  feet  high,  the  lumber 
being  three  inches  thick,  The  entrance  had  two 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  150 

large  gates  that  swung  against  a  center  post  and 
when  the  gates  were  closed,  they  were  hooked  on  the 
inside  with  hooks  and  staples.  When  darkness  came, 
we  closed  the  gates.  During  the  day  one  of  the 
carpenters  carelessly  left  a  ladder  on  the  outside.  This 
Indian,  about  two  o'clock  the  following  morning, 
ascended  this  ladder  and  dropped  inside  the  stockade, 
and  then  unfastened  the  gates.  Then  going  to  Apple- 
ton's  sleeping  quarters,  which  was  the  nearest  build- 
ing to  the  gates,  knocked  on  the  door.  Appleton  got 
up,  putting  on  his  slippers,  cap  and  long  ulster,  stepped 
outside  and  asked  the  Indian  what  he  wanted.  The 
Indian  replied  something  in  the  Sioux  language. 
Appleton  not  understanding  Sioux  and  knowing  that 
Billy  Hunter,  the  assistant  interpreter,  was  sleeping 
in  the  quarters  with  myself,  Mike  Dunne  and  Paddy 
Simmons,  turned  his  back  to  the  Indian  and  made  but 
a  few  steps  toward  these  quarters  when  the  Indian 
shot  him,  using  a  Winchester  rifle,  hitting  him  just 
under  the  left  shoulder  blade. 

The  report  of  the  gun  awoke  us  boys.  We  hurriedly 
dressed  and  going  out  of  the  door,  saw  Appleton  on 
his  hands  and  knees  trying  to  get  up.  When  he  heard 
us,  he  said,  "Come  quick,  boys,  I  am  shot."  We 
hurried  to  him  and  carrying  him  into  his  bedroom,  he 
told  us  that  he  knew  he  was  going  to  die.  A  young 
doctor  had  arrived  on  the  Agency  the  day  before,  and 
we  woke  him  up,  telling  him  that  Appleton  was 
severely  wounded,  but  he  was  so  frightened  that  we 
could  not  get  him  out  of  his  room.  Billy  Hunter  then 
ran  down  to  Red  Cloud's  camp,  which  was  but  a  short 
distance  away,  telling  him  what  had  happened.  Red 
Cloud  then  set  Indian  runners  to  Man  Afraid  of  His 
Horses  and  Chief  Little  Wound's  camp.  They  all  three 
came  into  the  room  where  Frank  lay,  Red  Cloud  sitting 
down  on  the  side  of  the  bed  near  Franks  head,  took 
him  by  the  hand,  patting  it  on  the  back,  and  with 


Page  151  HARDKNOCKS 

head  bowed  and  with  tears  trickling  down  his  cheeks, 
said:  "It  is  too  bad.  You  are  a  good  man.  Bad  In- 
dian live  up  north."  A  few  minutes  later  Appleton 
died. 

This  was  the  first  tear  I  ever  knew  an  Indian  to 
shed.  Red  Cloud  having  lost  his  son  previous  to  this, 
the  memory  of  which  came  back  to  him  with  great 
force  and  melted  his  Indian  heart  to  tears.  Mike 
Dunne  immediately  started  on  horseback  for  Spotted 
Tail  Agency  to  inform  Seville.  When  daylight  came, 
Indians,  young  and  old,  crowded  into  the  stockade  in 
great  numbers.  Many  of  them  were  dressed  in  their 
war  paint  and  under  great  excitement.  About  two 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  Seville  arrived  from  Spotted 
Tail  Agency.  The  leading  Indians  then  held  a  great 
council  with  him  which  ended  by  their  telling  him 
that  they  were  afraid  they  could  not  control  their 
young  men  as  they  were  very  greatly  excited. 

I  neglected  to  say  that  in  the  construction  of  this 
stockade,  they  built  in  the  southeast  corner  a  high 
cupola,  where  one  could  go  and  get  an  unobstructed 
view  for  miles.  The  excitement  became  so  great  that 
Joe  Bassnet  called  I3en  Tibbetts  to  one  side,  telling 
him  in  Sioux  to  take  us  men  up  in  this  cupola,  and  to 
remain  there  until  he  told  us  that  it  was  safe  to 
come  out.  Ben  did  so.  We  then  took  sacks  of  flour 
and  other  food,  including  water,  into  the  cupola,  and 
with  the  flour  built  a  barricade.  We  had  but  one  gun 
up  there,  that  being  a  Winchester  (the  one  used  by 
Ben  for  shooting  cattle) .  There  we  remained  for  four 
days  and  nights.  I  could  not  describe  the  great 
excitement  going  on  among  the  Indians.  They  came 
from  all  directions,  the  chiefs  all  sitting  in  council, 
trying  to  decide  what  was  best  to  do.  They  held  the 
agent  as  a  hostage  until  the  decision  was  made.  The 
younger  Indians  wanted  to  bum  the  Agency,  kill  us 
white  men,  and  go  north. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  152 

American  Horse,  previously  spoken  of,  made  the 
Indians  a  final  talk,  telling  them  if  they  were  brave 
and  wanted  to  fight  the  white  man  that  they  could  go 
down  to  Fort  Laramie  on  the  Platte  River  and  find 
plenty  of  them,  including  the  soldiers,  but  they  must 
not  harm  us  white  men  on  the  Agency ;  that  some  of 
us  were  married  to  their  people,  and  were  building 
them  an  Agency  and  treating  them  kindly.  This 
seemed  to  quiet  them.  A  white  man  living  outside 
of  the  stockade  with  a  squaw  as  a  wife — a  squaw 
man,  as  we  termed  them — was  very  much  excited 
and  mounting  his  horse,  rode  to  Fort  Laramie  in 
great  haste.  On  arriving  there,  he  told  General  Smith, 
who  was  in  command,  that  the  Indians  had  killed  all 
us  white  men  and  had  burned  the  Agency  and  had 
gone  north  on  the  war  path.  General  Smith  im- 
mediately telegraphed  General  Crook,  who  was  in 
command  of  the  Department  of  the  Platte,  with  head- 
quarters at  Omaha,  Nebraska.  General  Crook  in- 
formed the  War  Department  at  Washington  of  these 
conditions.  The  War  Department  immediately  trans- 
ferred the  Sioux  Indians  from  the  Interior  Department 
to  the  War  Department.  Crook  was  then  ordered  to 
Fort  Laramie,  where  he  organized  what  was  termed 
the  Crook  expedition.  Three  days  after  the  death  of 
Appleton  the  Indians  furnished  an  escort  for  the 
body  to  Fort  Laramie,  the  doctor  accompanying  the 
remains.  From  there  they  shipped  the  body  to  his 
home.  This  showing  conclusively  that  his  present- 
ment had  come  true.  Without  a  question  of  doubt, 
the  killing  of  this  young  man  was  the  true  cause  of 
the  Sioux  War  of  1876. 

After  four  days  in  this  cupola,  Bessnet  informed 
us  that  we  could  go  back  to  our  work  as  all  was 
safe.  We  all  gave  American  Horse  credit  for  saving 
our  lives.  The  following  day,  myself  and  two  others 
left  the  Agency  for  Fort  Laramie.  We  knew  that 


Page  153  HARDKNOCKS 

something  was  going  to  happen  as  Appleton,  at  the 
time  he  was  killed,  was  really  acting  agent,  and  we 
knew  the  government  would  not  stand  for  this  kill- 
ing. When  we  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie,  all  was  ex- 
excitement  there;  soldiers  being  equipped,  six-mule 
teams  being  assembled  for  transportation  purposes, 
soldiers  arriving  from  Fort  D.  A.  Russell.  We  im- 
mediately made  application  for  a  teamster's  job  and 
had  no  trouble  in  securing  one. 

To  explain  more  fully  regarding  conditions  existing 
between  the  Interior  Department  and  the  Military  De- 
partment regarding  the  Sioux  before  the  death  of 
Frank  Appleton  on  Red  Cloud  Agency,  I  will  cite  one 
instance.  One  bright  day  in  1873,  the  horses  of  K 
Company,  2nd  Cavalry,  were  out  on  herd  near  the  Post 
Fort  Laramie,  guarded  by  two  cavalry  soldiers,  when 
five  Sioux  Indians  rushed  in  between,  the  Post  and  the 
horses  and  ran  them  off,  taking  the  soldiers  with  the 
horses,  getting  across  the  Platte  River  before  they 
could  stop  them.  The  soldiers  they  stripped  of  their 
clothing  and  sent  them  back  to  the  Post  naked.  These 
horses  the  Government  never  did  recover  as  they 
could  not  cross  the  Platte  River  after  them,  by  virtue 
of  the  Sioux  treaty.  I  saw  many  of  these  horses  on 
the  Agency  when  I  worked  there.  This  expedition 
verifies  the  fact  that  the  killing  of  Appleton  changed 
ail  treaty  relations  with  the  Sioux,  and  proves  that  this 
expedition  was  the  first  step  in  the  Sioux  war  of  1876. 

In  three  days,  with  ten  companies  of  soldiers, 
General  Crook  in  command,  part  being  cavalry,  we 
started  for  the  Agency.  There  were  one  hundred 
six-mule  teams,  and  I  assure  you  it  was  a  beautiful 
sight  to  look  this  assembly  over.  The  six-mule  teams 
traveling  four  abreast  across  the  prairie,  cavalry  as 
the  advance  guard  and  cavalry  as  the  rear  guard.  The 
infantry  marched  in  single  file  on  the  outside,  also 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  154 

riding  in  the  wagons.  In  due  time  we  arrived  on  the 
Agency  and  found  nothing  there  except  some  old 
bucks  and  old  squaws,  the  balance  of  the  Indians 
having  gone  north,  knowing  that  this  expedition  was 
coming  to  the  Agency.  The  agent  and  the  boys  there, 
were  of  course,  delighted  to  see  us.  We  camped  there 
for  about  ten  days.  Then  they  established,  about 
three  miles  from  the  Agency,  Fort  Robinson — at  that 
time  called  "Camp  Robinson."  This  post  derived  its 
name  from  the  fact  that  Lieutenant  Robinson  had 
been  killed  by  the  Indians  near  Fort  Laramie  three 
years  prior  to  this.  (As  a  coincident,  I  myself  while 
a  teamster  at  Fort  Laramie,  drove  the  ambulance 
that  hauled  Lieutenant  Robinson's  body  into  Fort 
Laramie,  and  I  also  drove  the  six-mule  team  that 
hauled  the  first  load  of  commissaries  to  Camp  Robin- 
son). After  establishing  this  camp,  we  returned  to 
Fort  Laramie,  leaving  about  one-half  of  the  command 
at  Camp  Robinson.  Upon  our  arrival  there,  orders 
were  awaiting  Crook  to  select,  from  our  six-mule 
teams,  mules  suitable  for  packing  purposes,  and  with 
his  command  to  report  to  Fort  Fetterman.  This  was 
the  first  move  directly  of  the  Sioux  War  of  1876. 
There  was  also  at  Fort  Laramie  orders  to  organize 
what  was  called  the  Black  Hills  or  Jenny  expedition. 
Colonel  Dodge  was  in  charge  of  the  military  depart- 
ment and  Professor  Jenny  was  the  scientist.  The 
latter  had  instructions  under  military  escort  to  enter 
the  Black  Hills  and  have  it  prospected  for  gold,  as 
there  had  been  rumors  that  miners  from  the  north 
had  gotten  in  there  and  found  gold  plentiful.  This 
was  then  called  the  Popsy  Paw  country  and  was 
owned  by  the  Sioux  under  treaties  with  the  govern- 
ment. If  Professor  Jenny  could  verify  this  fact,  the 
government's  intention  was  to  buy  it  from  the  Sioux. 
This  would  allow  white  men  to  go  in  there  undisturbed. 


Page  155  HARD   KNOCKS 

I  joined  this  expedition  in  the  capacity  of  a  team- 
ster. I  drove  what  was  termed  "Headquarter  Wagon." 
This  wagon  contained  the  equipment  belonging  to 
General  Dodge,  and  was  always  in  the  lead  and  thus 
termed  the  "Lead  Wagon."  Among  teamsters,  this 
was  quite  an  honor  and  also  quite  a  convenience,  as 
one  arrived  in  camp  earlier  than  the  many  teams 
strung  out  in  the  rear. 

The  government  was  short  of  transportation  and 
in  addition  to  fifty  government  six-mule  teams,  they 
were  compelled  to  hire  forty  teams  owned  by  citizens, 
making  in  all  ninety  teams. 

Before  leaving  Fort  Laramie,  I  met  up  at  the 
Sutler  store  a  man  named  Botsford.  He  was  an  old 
government  employe  and  when  I  first  went  to  Chey- 
enne, he  was  superintendent  of  transportation  for  the 
government  at  a  station  close  by,  named  Camp  Carlin. 
All  supplies  destined  for  northern  posts  passed 
through  his  station,  same  having  been  brought  there 
by  the  Union  Pacific  railroad.  The  superintendent 
was  considered  a  very  high  official,  having  a  great 
responsibility  upon  his  hands.  Botsford  was  a  highly 
educated  man  and  when  off  duty  hobnobbed  a  good 
deal  with  the  officers  at  Fort  D.  A.  Russell,  a  short 
distance  away.  He  was  also  very  sporty  and  par- 
ticularly fond  of  horse  racing.  At  a  horse  race  one 
day,  he  and  Lieutenant  Whiting  had  a  serious  mis- 
understand regarding  some  bet  that  was  made.  After 
the  race  Botsford  went  to  Camp  Carlin  and  later 
Lieutenant  Whiting  followed  him  there,  when  they 
got  into  a  quarrel,  Lieutenant  Whiting  drawing  a  six- 
shooter,  shooting  twice  at  Botsford,  but  missing  him. 
Botsford  being  unarmed,  ran  to  his  quarters,  the 
lieutenant  following  him.  On  a  table  lay  Botsford's 
gun.  He  snatched  it  up,  shooting  the  Lieutenant  and 
killing  him.  This,  of  course,  was  a  very  serious 
matter — the  killing  of  a  United  States  officer. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  156 

About  this  time  an  ambulance  drove  up.  Bots- 
ford  jumped  into  it,  ordering  the  driver  to  drive  him 
to  Cheyenne.  He  there  gave  himself  up  to  the  sheriff. 
Later,  when  the  soldiers  heard  of  the  death  of  their 
lieutenant,  they  armed  themselves  and  a  great  num- 
ber of  them  started  for  Cheyenne  to  avenge  the 
lieutenant's  death.  The  citizens  of  Cheyenne,  knowing 
that  there  would  be  serious  trouble  over  the  matter, 
also  armed  themselves  and  barricaded  the  streets 
leading  up  to  the  jail  where  Botsford  was  confined. 
This  stopped  the  advance  of  the  soldiers.  Finally, 
officers  from  Fort  D.  A.  Russell  rode  into  Cheyenne 
and  ordered  the  soldiers  back  to  their  quarters.  Bots- 
ford later  on  was  tried  and  acquitted,  but  naturally 
was  discharged  from  the  government's  employ.  He 
then  began  to  carouse  and  drink  heavily,  and  in  six 
months  he  was  a  perfect  sot.  In  fact,  so  low  that  he 
became  a  saloon  bum. 

In  meeting  at  the  sutler's  store  as  previously 
stated,  I  said  to  him,  "Why  don't  you  brace  up  and 
come  out  with  us  on  this  expedition?" 

He  replied,  "No;  I  am  too  far  gone,  and  if  I  got 
away  from  whiskey  for  two  days,  I  would  die." 

I  then  said  to  him,  "Botsford,  if  you  will  agree  to 
come  along,  I'll  see  Jim  Duncan,  the  wagonmaster, 
and  get  you  a  position  driving  a  six-mule  team,  and 
furthermore,  I'll  take  whiskey  enough  along  to  brace 
you  up.  In  doing  this  you  can  make  a  man  of  your- 
self again.  You  are  too  good  a  man  to  go  on  in  the 
manner  you  are  and  here  is  your  last  chance." 

The  poor  fellow  began  to  cry  and  between  sobs 
told  me  that  those  were  the  first  encouraging  words 
he  had  had  spoken  to  him  in  two  years.  I  left  him 
and  went  down  to  the  corral  to  see  Duncan.  I  asked 
Duncan  to  give  Botsford  a  chance.  He  laughed  at 
me,  saying  that  Botsford  would  not  live  three  days. 


Page  157  HARDKNOCKS 

I  then  told  him  my  plan  to  brace  Botsfprd  up  and 
also  told  him  that  three  years  prior  to  this,  Botsford 
had  done  him  many  favors  and  that  now  was  the 
time  to  reciprocate.  However,  Duncan  replied,  "Your 
heart  is  much  larger  than  your  head,  and  if  you  will 
attend  to  him,  I'll  giye  him  a  job."  The  next  morning 
I  had  Botsford  astride  of  the  wheeler  in  a  six-mule 
team. 

In  a  few  days  the  expedition  started,  and  about  six 
times  a  day  I  would  go  back  to  Botsford  and  give  him 
a  good,  stiff  drink  of  whiskey.  I  did  not  let  many  days 
go  by  before  reducing  both  quantity  and  quality,  and 
in  two  weeks  one  would  not  have  recognized  the  Bots- 
ford of  former  days.  An  army  officer  who  chanced  to 
see  Botsford  driving  his  team,  reported  the  fact  to 
Colonel  Dodge,  telling  him  of  Botsford's  previous 
trouble  with  Lieutenant  Whiting.  This,  of  course, 
caused  a  great  deal  of  talk  among  the  officers  and 
soldiers.  Professor  Jenny  finally  hearing  of  it,  came 
over  one  night  to  Duncan's  tent  and  asked  him  who 
this  Botsford  was.  I  was  standing  close  by  and 
Duncan  called  me,  telling  Professor  Jenny  at  the 
same  time  that  I  could  tell  him  all  about  the  Bots- 
ford affair.  Jenny  invited  me  over  to  his  tent  and 
I  gave  him  Botsford's  past  history.  When  I  got 
through,  he  said  that  he  wanted  a  private  secretary 
and  asked  me  if  I  thought  Botsford  would  accept  the 
position.  I  replied,  "Yes,  I'll  see  that  he  does  accept 
it."  I  then  hunted  Botsford  up  and  explained  matters 
to  him.  He  threw  up  his  hands  and  said  "No,  and 
for  God's  sake  let  me  alone  where  I  am."  Talking 
with  him  further,  I  discovered  his  reason  for  not 
wanting  to  accept  the  position.  He  explained  that  if 
he  accepted  the  position  it  would  throw  him  into 
the  society  of  the  officers  which  might  lead  to  trouble 
for  him.  I  then  took  him  over  to  Jenny,  leaving  him 
there.  In  about  two  hours  he  came  over  to  my  tent 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  158 

and  told  me  he  had  accepted  the  position.  Botsford 
held  this  appointment  for  a  long  time  and  was  very 
satisfactory  to  Professor  Jenny.  I  will  write  more 
of  this  man  later. 

Another  man  of  prominence  who  accompanied  this 
expedition  was  a  Mr.  McGillacuty.  Mr.  McGillacuty 
had  a  national  reputation  and  had  surveyed  the 
boundary  line  between  British  Columbia  and  the 
United  States.  His  duties  were  to  take  the  topog- 
raphy of  the  country. 

Our  guide  on  this  expedition  was  California  Joe, 
a  very  noted  man  in  the  west.  This  man  was  one  of 
the  greatest  mountaineers  the  west  ever  produced, 
not  excepting  Freemont.  I  will  also  speak  more  of 
this  great  man  later  on. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
Black  Hills,  and  made  our  first  permanent  camp  on 
French  Creek.  The  town  of  Custer  City  is  now  located 
there,  named  in  honor  of  General  Custer. 


Page  159  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

GOOD  AND  BAD  ARMY  OFFICIALS  OF  THIS  EXPEDITION 
—  A  TRIBUTE  TO  CAPTAIN  BURKE  — HOW  HE 
FOUGHT  ONE  OF  HIS  PRIVATES— FAIR  AND  SQUARE 
—A  TEAMSTER'S  MANY  TROUBLES— HOW  A  LIEU- 
TENANT GOT  EVEN— CALAMITY  JANE. 

A~TER  we  had  formed  this  permanent  camp, 
Jenny  and  his  assistants,  who  were  miners  and 
citizens,  he  being  allowed  five  of  them,  went 
prospecting.  In  two  weeks  they  found  gold 
on  this  creek  in  paying  quantities.  They 
then  went  over  the  divide  to  Spring  Creek,  which 
was  but  a  few  miles  from  their  camp.  They  also 
found  gold  there.  It  then  became  necessary 
to  send  twenty-five  teams  back  to  Fort  Laramie  for 
supplies.  I  was  detailed  as  one  of  the  twenty-five. 
This  trip  was  under  the  command  of  Captain  Burke. 
He  was  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie  when  I  arrived 
there  and  during  my  stay.  Officers  of  these  frontier 
posts  favored,  if  possible,  the  teams  and  teamsters 
that  were  stationed  in  their  posts.  Captain  Burke  had 
risen  from  the  ranks  and  was  universally  liked  by  all 
who  knew  him,  especially  the  citizens.  In  the  army 
at  this  time  officers  graduating  from  West  Point 
usually  looked  down  on  officers  who  had  risen  from 
the  ranks,  but  not  so  in  Captain  Burke's  case,  as  he 
was  a  very  square  and  just  man.  I  will  cite  you  one 
instance  of  his  character  as  a  man. 

Some  two  years  prior  to  this  time  at  Fort  Laramie, 
the  first  sergeant  of  Burke's  company,  I,  of  the  14th 
infantry,  reported  to  him  that  he  had  a  very  trouble- 
some, fighting  soldier  in  the  company,  and  who  had 
whipped  in  a  fist  fight  two  or  three  of  his  men  and 
who  bragged  that  he  could  whip  any  man  in 'Fort 
Laramie  in  a  rough  and  tumble  fight.  Burke  told  the 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  160 

sergeant  that  at  guard  mount  next  day  to  march  the 
company  down  to  the  banks  of  the  Platte  Ever,  about 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  east  of  the  parade  grounds.  To 
do  this,  they  had  to  march  by  the  teamsters'  quarters 
at  the  corral.  The  next  day  we  teamsters,  seeing  the 
company  march  by,  wondered  where  .they  were  going. 
Suddenly  they  halted,  and  I  and  three  others  ran 
down  there  to  see  what  they  were  doing.  Just  as 
we  arrived,  Burke  had  ordered  this  man,  whose  name 
was  Murphy,  to  advance  five  paces  in  front  of  the 
company.  The  soldier  did  so.  Burke  then  addressed 
him  as  follows : 

"My  good  man,  my  first  sergeant  informs  me  that 
you  have  been  making  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in  the 
company  by  fighting  with  and  bullying  your  com- 
panions. He  also  states  that  you  have  made  a  boast 
that  you  can  whip,  in  a  rough  and  tumble  fight,  any 
man  in  Fort  Laramie,  and  I  am  here  to  inform  you 
that  there  is  one  man  in  Fort  Laramie  who  doubts 
your  ability  to  fulfill  your  boast,  and  that  man  is  I." 

The  soldier  replied:  "You  forget  that  you  are  a 
captain  and  la  private,  and  that  I  dare  not  fight  you." 

Burke  leisurely  unbuttoned  his  coat,  removing  it, 
and  throwing  it  on  the  grass  between  himself  and  the 
soldier,  remarked:  "There  lies  Captain  Burke  and 
\iere  stands  plain,  ordinary  Dan  Burke.  Now  prepare 
yourself  by  removing  your  blouse  and  hat,  for  you  are 
going  to  have  the  time  of  your  life."  The  soldier  did 
so,  and  at  it  they  went ;  first  one  having  the  best  of  it, 
and  then  the  other. 

They  fought  over  the  grass,  rolling  over  and  over; 
sometimes  Burke  on  top,  other  times  the  soldier.  Blood 
flowed  freely.  Finally,  Burke  got  him  by  the  throat 
with  his  left  hand,  he  being  on  top,  then  pressing  his 
knee  against  his  abdomen,  in  the  meantime  choking 
and  punching  him  in  the  face,  until  the  soldier  shouted, 
"enough."  Burke  arose,  walked  over  to  where  his  coat 


CALIFORNIA  JOE 
The  great  mountaineer  and  guide  in  the  Black  Hills,  S.  D.     (Sketch) 


Page  161  HARDKNOCKS 

and  cap  were;  the  soldier  being  unable  to  rise,  two  or 
three  men  stepped  forward  and  helped  him  to  his 
feet,  and  I  assure  you  he  was  a  sight.  Burke  was 
also  very  much  disfigured.  Captain  Burke  facing  the 
soldier,  then  said:  "Now  go  back  to  your  quarters 
and  behave  yourself  and  always  remember  that  there 
is  one  man  at  this  post  you  cannot  whip."  He  then 
marched  the  company  back  to  their  quarters,  and  in 
the  future  this  soldier  was  a  "good  dog." 

The  news  of  this  fight  soon  spread  around  the 
country,  and  I  assure  you  that  Burke  raised  a  great 
many  notches  in  the  estimation  of  all  who  knew  him. 

We  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie  in  due  time,  nothing 
of  particular  interest  occurring  on  the  trip.  We  re- 
mained in  Fort  Laramie  about  a  week,  having  our 
harnesses  repaired,  mules  shod  and  wagons  loaded. 
One  beautiful  morning  orders  were  given  for  us  to 
return  to  Jenny's  camp,  Burke  still  being  in  command. 

At  this  time  a  lieutenant  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie 
from  Arizona.  His  name  was  Ray.  He  had  served 
under  General  Crook  in  the  Apache  War.  He  was 
a  "West  Pointer" — as  we  termed  those  who  had  grad- 
uated there — and  had  a  very  exalted  opinion  of  him- 
self, and  hated  a  citizen  and  especially  a  teamster. 
He  was  appointed  quartermaster  on  this  return  trip. 
To  have  the  reader  understand  the  authority  invested 
in  a  quartermaster,  I  must  explain  that  they  have 
entire  charge  of  the  transportation  and  are  held  re- 
sponsible to  the  commanding  officer  for  anything 
occurring.  The  first  day  out  this  quartermaster  began 
abusing  the  teamsters  for  any  trifling  thing  they 
might  do,  and  was  very  profane  in  his  remarks,  often 
calling  them  very  vile  names.  We  teamsters  knew  we 
had  struck  a  tartar  and  tried  our  best  to  keep  out 
of  trouble  with  him. 

About  the  third  day  out  this  fellow  issued  an 
order  to  the  effect  that  all  teamsters,  after  unhitching 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  162 

«% 

their  mules,  after  arrival  in  camp,  should  put  their 
halters  on  them  and  lead  them  fifty  paces  from  the 
camp.  His  reason  for  doing  this  was  that  the  mules, 
in  being  turned  loose  at  the  wagon,  might  stumble 
against  the  guy  ropes  of  the  officers*  tents  and  annoy 
them.  When  unharnessing  the  mules,  as  soon  as  the 
teamster  has  released  the  hames  from  the  collars, 
unbuckled  the  belly  bands  and  unbuckled  the  collar, 
the  mules  are  gone  with  half  the  harness,  if  the 
teamster  is  not  very  quick.  The  mules  to  some  extent 
are  trained  this  way  and  to  break  them  in  to  waiting 
until  they  were  completely  unharnessed  would  be  a 
difficult  job,  as  they  were  always  very  anxious  to  get 
out  to  feed,  since  we  did  not  carry  feed  for  them  on 
these  expeditions,  not  having  room;  the  mules  living 
entirely  on  grass.  As  soon  as  they  were  released, 
two  or  three  teamsters  were  detailed  each  day  to 
herd  them.  Consequently,  we  paid  no  attention  to  the 
order.  The  quartermaster  did  not  notice  this  for  a 
couple  of  days. 

We  had  a  teamster  in  the  outfit  named  Phillips. 
He  was  a  Missourian ;  very  long  and  gangling,  and  the 
butt  of  all  our  jokes.  The  quartermaster  happened  to 
come  along  when  Phillips  was  unhitching.  He  drove 
four  mules  attached  to  an  ambulance.  He  had  just 
turned  two  of  his  mules  loose,  when  Ray  called  him 
a  vile  name,  saying,  "Don't  you  know  that  I  issued 

an  order  that  you  d teamsters  were  to  halter  and 

lead  your  mules  fifty  paces  out  of  camp  ?" 

Phillips  did  not  answer  him  but  proceeded  to 
unharness  another  mule.  The  quartermaster  rushed 
up  to  him  and  kicked  him.  Quicker  than  lightning, 
Phillips  shot  out  that  great,  large  fist  of  his,  hitting 
the  quartermaster  between  the  eyes,  knocking  him 
down.  Ray  had  a  six-shooter  in  a  scabbard,  which  was 
covered  by  a  flap  and  buttoned,  the  same  being  at- 
tached to  his  belt.  Reaching  around  he  attempted  to 


Page  163  HARD   KNOCKS 

unbutton  this  flap  to  draw  his  six-shooter.  Phillips 
rushed  to  the  front  box  of  the  ambulance  where  he 
carried  his  gun,  getting  it  and  throwing  it  down  on 
Ray,  telling  him  not  to  draw  that  six-shooter  or  he 
would  kill  him. 

Ray  exclaimed,  "Don't  shoot,  teamster,  don't 
shoot."  Then,  getting  up,  walked  away,  Phillips  re- 
suming the  unhitching. 

In  about  thirty  minutes  a  corporal  and  three  men 
put  Phillips  under  arrest,  and  escorted  him  up  to 
Captain  Burke's  tent,  where  Ray  had  already  gone. 
The  first  question  Burke  asked  the  teamster  was,  "In 
what  post  are  you  employed?" 

He  replied,  "Fort  Laramie." 

Burke  then  said,  "The  quartermaster  informs  me 
that  you  disobeyed  his  orders  and  also  struck  him. 
Is  this  a  fact?" 

Phillips  replied,  "Yes,  sir." 

"Why  did  you  do  so?" 

Phillips  then  explained  to  Captain  Burke  the  whole 
circumstances,  also  telling  him  that  it  would  be  almost 
impossible  for  a  teamster  to  obey  this  order,  and  that 
he  was  very  sorry  it  led  up  to  any  trouble.  Burke 
then  turned  to  the  quartermaster,  saying,  "Lieutenant, 
I  think  you  are  too  severe  on  our  teamsters.  This 
mode  of  treatment  of  them  might  do  in  Arizona  but 
not  in  this  country,  and  unless  you  change  your  ways, 
some  of  these  Fort  Laramie  teamsters  will  severely 
injure  you,  for  I  know  many  of  them  and  they  are  a 
hard  set." 

This  was  a  good  lesson  to  Ray  and  before  the 
expedition  was  over  we  had  very  little  trouble  getting 
along  with  him. 

With  this  same  expedition  was  another  young 
lieutenant;  I  can't  remember  his  name,  but  he  had 
recently  arrived  from  West  Point.  One  day,  my  team 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  164 

being  in  the  lead,  I  saw  sitting  on  the  prairie  by  the 
side  of  a  river,  Captain  Burke  and  three  officers.  Burke 
motioned  me  to  drive  in  toward  them.  Then  I  knew 
we  were  going  to  camp  there  for  the  night.  When  I 
got  up  to  where  they  were,  I  said,  "Captain,  where  do 
you  want  this  wagon  to  stand?" 

He  replied,  "Unhitch  where  you  are,  teamster." 

I  had  unhitched  four  of  the  mules,  when  this 
blustering,  little  lieutenant  came  along,  and  in  a  loud 
voice  asked  me  why  I  was  unhitching  there.  I  told 
him,  by  orders  of  Captain  Burke.  He  fumed  around, 
finally  ordering  me  to  pull  the  wagon  up  ten  paces 
further.  I  paid  no  attention  to  him  and  kept  on  un- 
hitching the  other  team  of  mules.  I  thought  the 
fellow  would  go  crazy.  Finally  a  mild  voice  said, 
"Lieutenant,  what  seems  to  be  the  trouble  with  you 
and  that  gentleman?"  with  emphasis  on  the  gentle- 
man, for  it  was  very,  very  seldom  a  teamster  was 
called  a  gentleman  by  an  army  officer. 

However,  the  lieutenant  saluted  and  replied,  "I 
wish  this  wagon  moved  ten  paces." 

Burke  then  said :  "No,  no,  lieutenant,  I  ordered  the 
gentleman  to  unhitch  there."  I  will  ask  the  reader 
how  could  any  teamster  dislike  this  Captain  Burke. 

I  had  been  around  government  long  enough  to 
know  that  this  lieutenant,  if  he  stayed  with  the  ex- 
pedition long  enough,  and  having  it  in  for  me,  would 
make  it  unpleasant  for  me  if  the  opportunity  pre- 
sented itself,  and  sure  enough  it  was  but  a  few  days 
before  he  supposedly  got  his  revenge. 

The  quartermaster  had  issued  an  order  that  all 
teamsters  should  continuously  ride  their  near  saddle 
mule  while  in  motion.  On  all  government  wagons 
teamsters  would  construct  what  we  called  a  lazy 
board.  This  was  pushed  under  the  wagon-bed  between 


Page  165  HARD   KNOCKS 

the  fore  and  hind  wheels  on  the  near  or  left-hand  side 
of  the  wagon,  and  when  we  got  tired  riding  the  saddle 
mule,  we  would  pull  out  this  lazy  board  and  sit  on  it. 
This  order  was  just,  as  a  teamster  sitting  on  the  lazy 
board  could  not  see  all  of  his  team.  However,  I  was 
sitting  on  this  lazy  board  when  along  came  my  friend, 
the  lieutenant,  and  said,  "Get  up  on  that  saddle  mule." 
I  did  so.  He  rode  by  my  side,  he  being  mounted,  for 
a  half  hour  in  hopes  that  I  might  say  something  to 
him,  but  not  one  word  from  me.  When  we  arrived  in 
camp  and  unhitched,  a  corporal  walked  down  to  our 
mess  and  informed  me  that  the  commanding  officer 
wanted  to  see  me.  I  went  up  there,  and  found, 
standing  in  the  tent,  the  lieutenant.  Captain  Burke 
informed  me  that  the  lieutenant  had  reported  me  for 
disobeying  orders  by  riding  on  my  lazy  board.  I 
admitted  the  fact.  Burke  then  turned  to  the  lieuten- 
ant and  said :  "I  am  going  to  give  this  teamster  a  very 
severe  sentence."  This  rather  startled  me.  However, 
turning  to  me,  Captain  Burke  said:  "Teamster,  go 
down  to  your  mess,  get  an  axe  and  immediately 
destroy  that  lazy  board.  After  you  have  done  so, 
bring  the  pieces  and  lay  them  at  the  door  of  this 
lieutenant's  tent."  I  thanked  him  and  backed  out  of 
the  tent.  I  have  no  recollection  of  that  lazy  board 
being  destroyed  by  me. 

In  due  time  we  arrived  at  Jenny  Camp  and  found 
that  Professor  Jenny  had  satisfied  himself  that  gold 
was  in  paying  quantities  in  that  portion  of  the  Black 
Hills.  I  will  here  mention  why  this  portion  of  the 
country  was  called  the  Black  Hills.  On  the  outskirts 
of  these  hills  and  visible  from  the  plains  were  a  great 
many  pine  trees,  very  black,  but  upon  getting  close  to 
them,  they  were  a  pronounced  dark  green.  Thus  the 
name  "Black  Hills." 

It  was  from  here  that  Professor  Jenny  and  Pro- 
fessor McGillacuty  sent  their  first  report  to  the 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  166 

authorities  in  Washington.  This  report  was  trans- 
ported by  carrier  to  Fort  Laramie  and  from  there 
mailed  to  Washington.  We  remained  in  camp  there 
awaiting  orders,  which  came  after  the  authorities 
had  received  this  report.  They  ordered  Jenny  to 
further  explore  these  hills.  This  order  was  imparted 
to  Colonel  Dodge  and  in  three  days  we  were  again 
on  the  move. 

As  mentioned  previously,  I  stated  that  California 
Joe  was  our  guide.  To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of 
the  task  that  this  man  was  attempting  in  an  unknown 
country,  I  will  explain  that  there  were  one  hundred 
six-mule  teams  and  ten  companies  of  soldiers,  part 
of  which  were  cavalry.  The  mules  and  cavalry  horses 
had  to  have  grass  and  water  to  subsist  on.  The  men 
also  had  to  have  water,  and  the  commissaries  that 
sustained  these  men,  had  to  be  transported  with  them. 
Bear  in  mind  that  there  were  no  roads  in  this 
country  and  suitable  ground  had  to  be  selected  by 
the  guide  in  order  that  the  teams  and  soldiers  could 
get  through.  Not  once  on  the  whole  trip  did  this  man 
make  a  mistake,  and  never  one  dry  camp  did  we  have 
to  make. 

After  entering  the  hills,  California  Joe  traveled 
entirely  on  foot,  accompanied  by  a  large  black  hound. 
Wearing  an  old  cavalry  overcoat,  cavalry  pants  tucked 
in  his  boot  tops,  his  gun  in  hand,  and  on  his  head  an 
old  black,  broad-brimmed  slouch  hat,  he  would  start 
out  about  the  break  of  day,  and  before  the  command 
was  ready  to  move,  Joe  would  ascend  to  a  hilltop  and 
with  his  hands  shading  his  eyes,  would  scan  the 
country  in  all  directions.  He  would  then  return  to 
camp  and  report  to  Colonel  Dodge,  telling  him  the 
direction  he  wanted  the  teams  to  travel  that  day  and 
that  at  times  he  would  intercept  us,  if  he  wanted  the 
route  changed.  This  much  accomplished,  California 
Joe  would  then  fill  a  buckskin  sack  with  food  enough 


Page  167  HARDKNOCKS 

to  last  twenty-four  hours  for  both  himself  and  the 
dog,  carrying  the  sack  himself. 

We  usually  followed  the  ridges,  sometimes  descend- 
ing to  the  river  bed,  and  a  few  times  it  would  be 
necessary  to  rough-lock  with  chains,  the  wagon  wheels, 
and  with  a  rope  attached  to  the  hind  axle,  then  taking 
a  turn  with  the  rope  around  a  tree;  in  this  way  se- 
curing the  wagon,  as  otherwise  it  would  have  been 
impossible  to  have  gotten  down  to  the  river  bed.  We 
never,  at  any  time,  turned  back.  Joe  would  appear 
on  an  average  of  twice  a  day  to  see  how  we  were 
getting  along. 

I  remember  one  afternoon,  after  having  had  a 
pretty  hard  time  of  it  all  the  morning,  Colonel  Dodge 
stopped  the  command  to  rest,  when  Joe  happened  to 
come  along.  Being  driver  of  the  headquarter  wagon, 
I  was  always  close  to  Colonel  Dodge  and  his  officers, 
and  overheard  Dodge  ask  Joe  where  we  were  going 
to  camp  that  night. 

Joe  replied,  "Colonel,  do  you  see  those  two 
mountains  off  to  the  west?  There  we  will  find  the 
headwaters  of  some  river." 

"How  do  you  know  this,  Joe?  You  say  you  have 
never  been  in  here  before." 

All  the  reply  Joe  would  make  was:  "I  can  tell  by 
the  lay  of  the  country." 

Dodge  smiled  and  said:  "Joe,  where  is  due  north 
and  south?" 

Immediately  Joe  broke  off  a  piece  of  dry  grass 
and  holding  it  between  his  thumb  and  finger,  said: 
"Colonel,  take  out  your  store  compass  and  if  this 
piece  is  not  pointing  due  north,  I  will  eat  my  old  hat." 

Sure  enough  it  was.  The  colonel  looked  at  Joe  a 
moment,  and  then  said:  "Joe,  I  would  follow  you 
through  the  wilds  of  Africa." 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  168 

"Well,"  said  Joe,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "I  could 
take  you  and  the  outfit  through  there." 

To  which  Dodge  replied:  "I  believe  you."  Then 
turning  to  the  bugler,  he  ordered  him  to  blow  the 
march.  We  then  moved  on  and  in  three  hours  we 
found  the  headwaters  of  Red  River,  and  a  beautiful 
spot  it  was.  Surrounding  it  was  a  small,  open  valley, 
with  plenty  of  grass,  and  to  the  astonishment  of 
Professor  Jenny,  he  found  timothy  hay  growing  there 
three  feet  high.  How  the  seed  ever  got  there  was 
always  a  mystery. 

Poor  Joe  was  killed  in  1878  by  a  teamster  named 
Graham.  They  had  been  imbibing  pretty  freely  at 
Cuney  &  Coffee's  ranch,  six  miles  above  Fort  Laramie 
on  the  Laramie  River,  and  got  into  a  dispute  regard- 
ing our  trip  through  the  Black  Hills,  Graham  having 
been  a  teamster  at  the  time.  They  finally  agreed  to  go 
out  back  of  this  ranch,  put  their  backs  together  and 
walk  fifteen  steps  in  opposite  directions,  then  turn 
and  fire.  Graham's  nerve  deserting  him,  friends 
interfered  and  stopped  the  quarrel.  About  two  months 
later  some  teams  were  camped  near  Red  Cloud  Agency, 
Graham  being  one  of  the  teamsters.  Joe,  who  was 
living  in  that  section  of  the  country  and  seeing  the 
teams  camped,  walked  toward  them;  Graham  seeing 
him,  seized  his  gun  and  resting  it  on  the  wagon  wheel, 
shot  poor  old  Joe,  killing  him  instantly.  Graham 
immediately  took  to  the  hills,  but  was  followed  by  a 
posse  and  captured  three  days  later  and  was  hanged 
to  a  tree.  Thus  ended  one  of  the  greatest  mountain- 
eers the  west  ever  produced,  and  also  ended  the 
career  of  a  black-hearted  murderer. 

Professor  Jenny  prospected  these  hills  thoroughly. 
We  often  made  camp  and  remained  there  for  ten  or 
fifteen  days  while  he  was  doing  so.  Finally  we  got 
through  the  hills,  coming  out  on  the  northwest  side 


Page  169  HARD    KNOCKS 

to  the  plains.  We  then  skirted  the  hills  on  the  north 
and  east  side  on  our  way  back  to  Fort  Laramie,  from 
where  we  had  been  gone  five  months. 

The  day  before  we  arrived  at  Fort  Laramie,  my 
friend  Botsford  rode  up  to  me  and  said,  "Young,  I 
don't  know  how  to  thank  you  for  all  you  have  done 
for  me.  This  has  been  a  glorious  trip  through  a 
wonderful  country  and  never  in  my  life  have  I  felt 
better  and  never  in  my  life  have  I  thought  more  of 
myself.  With  your  assistance  I  have  fought  the  fight 
of  my  life,  and  some  day  in  the  near  future  I  will 
repay  you  ten-fold  for  what  you  have  done  for  me." 
Taking  me  by  the  hand,  he  bowed  his  head  and  cried 
like  a  child. 

I  said  to  him,  "Botsford,  when  we  arrive  at  the 
post,  don't  forget  that  there  is  a  sutler  store  there 
and  in  that  sutler  store  they  sell  vile  whiskey." 

He  replied,  "Don't  fear!  never  again!  California 
Joe  and  I,  when  we  receive  our  pay,  are  going  to  fit 
ourselves  out  and  go  back  into  the  hills.  I  have 
selected  a  place  there,  and  if  it  comes  up  to  my  ex- 
pectation, you,  Joe  and  myself,  will  have  all  the  money 
we  want  for  the  balance  of  our  lives.  You  need  not 
come  back  with  us,  but  if  successful,  I  will  find  you 
if  you  are  on  earth."  They  remained  at  Laramie  for 
only  five  days,  then  returning  to  the  hills.  I  will  ex- 
plain to  the  readers  later  on  how  this  man  kept  his 
word. 

At  this  time,  the  true  story  of  Calamity  Jane's 
history  will  not  be  amiss.  She  was  born  at  Fort 
Laramie  in  1860.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  soldier 
named  Dalton.  Dalton  was  discharged  from  the  army 
in  1861,  and  with  his  wife  and  daughter  settled  on  a 
hay  ranch  on  a  stream  called  the  La  Bontie,  120  miles 
from  Fort  Laramie.  In  the  early  fall  of  that  year  a 
large  body  of  Sioux  Indians  raided  that  country,  kill- 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  170 

ing  all  white  persons  that  happened  in  their  path. 
Among  those  killed  was  Dalton.  Mrs.  Dalton  was  shot 
in  the  eye  with  an  arrow,  destroying  the  sight,  and 
with  her  own  hand  extracted  the  arrow  and  quickly 
bandaging  the  eye,  placed  her  one-year  old  daughter 
on  her  back  and  managed  to  escape.  Traveling  nights 
and  hiding  by  day,  subsisting  on  weeds  and  roots,  she 
finally  managed  to  reach  Fort  Lararnie  in  eight  days, 
a  mere  skeleton  of  her  former  self,  her  clothing  torn 
to  shreds.  Before  medical  aid  could  be  procured,  she 
expired.  Sergeant  Bassett,  of  company  I,  14th  in- 
fantry, and  his  wife  adopted  the  child  and  prefixed  to 
her  name,  Jane  Dalton,  the  word  "Calamity,"  so  hence- 
forth she  was  known  as  Calamity  Jane.  She  was  the 
pet  of  the  fort  and  lived  there  until  the  spring  of 
1875.  Jane  was  then  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  quite 
good  looking,  dark  complexioned,  black  eyes  and  black 
hair,  which  she  wore  short.  She  had  no  particular  use 
for  a  citizen,  but  anybody  with  a  blue  coat  and  brass 
buttons,  could  catch  Calamity. 

At  this  time  Calamity  Jane  was  enamored  with 
Sergeant  Shaw,  of  company  E,  3rd  cavalry.  His  com- 
pany having  been  detailed  on  the  Jenny  expedition, 
and  she  wanting  to  accompany  him,  he  suggested  that 
she  wear  cavalry  clothes.  He  then  secretly  took  her 
to  the  company's  tailor  and  fitted  her  out  with  a  com- 
plete uniform.  One  not  knowing  her  would  never  have 
taken  her  for  a  female.  She  spent  her  time  entirely 
with  this  company  and  up  to  the  time  that  we  reached 
our  first  permanent  camp,  none  but  Shaw,  and  pos- 
sibly a  few  other  soldiers,  knew  that  she  was  with  the 
expedition. 

In  constructing  this  first  permanent  camp,  they 
arranged  the  officers'  tents  in  a  square,  covering  them 
with  bows  cut  from  trees.  This  left  a  large  space 
which  was  termed  the  parade  ground.  One  of  the 
tents  was  used  as  a  sutler  store,  where  was  sold 


Page  171  HARD    KNOCKS 

whiskey,  tobacco,  etc.  One  morning  Calamity  had 
occasion  to  cross  this  square.  Unfortunately,  she  met 
an  officer,  who  was  a  German  and  a  great  disciplin- 
arian, and  having  no  chance  to  get  by  him,  saluted  him 
in  true  soldierly  style.  He  saluted  in  return.  Quite 
a  number  of  officers  were  standing  in  front  of  the 
sutler  tent,  one  of  them  knowing  Calamity  and  seeing 
an  opportunity  for  a  joke  on  this  officer,  when  the 
latter  approached  them  he  laughed  at  him.  He  asked 
him  what  he  was  laughing  at.  He  made  no  reply,  but 
laughed  louder.  The  officer  then  demanded  to  know 
why  they  were  laughing  at  him.  They  finally  told 
him  that  the  soldier  he  had  just  saluted  was  Calamity 
Jane.  His  dignity  was  hurt  and  he  immediately  made 
an  investigation  and  found  that  it  was  true,  and  also 
found  that  Calamity  was  consorting  with  Ist-officer 
Shaw,  which  caused  Shaw  to  be  severely  reprimanded, 
and  also  had  an  order  issued  expelling  Calamity  from 
the  camp.  Poor  Calamity  was  in  a  quandary  what  to 
do.  She  could  not  go  back  to  Fort  Laramie  alone,  as 
the  Indians  were  bad,  etc. 

As  a  final  resort,  Calamity  Jane  came  up  on  the 
hill  to  where  we  teamsters  were  camped,  and  knowing 
me  well,  asked  if  she  could  go  along  with  us.  If  so, 
she  would  do  the  cooking  for  our  mess.  I  finally  got 
permission  from  the  wagonmaster  to  allow  her  to 
travel  and  camp  with  us.  This  compelled  her  to  change 
her  soldiers'  clothes  for  citizen  clothes,  which  we  fur- 
nished her.  She  remained  with  us  the  balance  of  the 
way  and  naturally  I  saw  much  of  her.  When  we 
moved  camp,  Calamity  rode  in  my  wagon  whenever  she 
got  tired  of  walking. 

One  day  when  crossing  Spring  Creek,  my  wagon 
turned  over  as  I  was  making  a  turn,  which  threw  the 
rear  end  of  the  wagon  into  quite  deep  water.  Calamity 
being  under  the  wagon  sheet,  was  compelled  to  crawl 
out  of  the  hind  end,  and  in  doing  so,  fell  into  the 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  172 

water  up  to  her  neck.  My !  how  she  did  swear  at  me ; 
and  she  always  seemed  to  have  the  idea  that  I  did  it 
purposely,  but  such  was  not  the  case,  as  it  was  con- 
sidered a  disgrace  for  a  teamster  to  capsize  his  wagon 
and  was  also  a  great  trouble  to  him.  This  girl  be- 
came a  very  notorious  character  and  I  will  later  on 
speak  of  her  further. 

Before  arriving  at  the  Platte  River,  where  Fort 
Laramie  was  situated,  there  was  a  high  divide  and 
when  my  team  reached  the  pinacle  of  this  divide, 
which  gave  them  a  view  of  the  post  and  three  very 
large  hay  stacks,  they  were  about  half  starved  and 
very,  very  thin  and  were  also  very  much  skinned  up 
by  the  friction  of  the  harness  which  they  wore.  Con- 
sequently, when  my  lead  team  saw  this  post,  they 
began  to  bray,  the  balance  of  the  hundred  teams 
taking  it  up,  making  a  horrible  noise  which  was 
deafening.  We  had  made  this  trip  by  long,  severe 
drives  and  had  not  given  the  mules  much  chance  to 
graze.  However,  the  poor  animals  were  now  in  sight 
of  something  good  to  eat,  which  accounted  for  the 
deafening  noise  they  made, 

On  arriving  at  the  river,  we  found  a  rudely  con- 
structed ferry  boat  or  raft.  This  would  only  carry  one 
team  at  a  time.  It  being  now^  about  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  and  by  using  this  ferry,  it  would  have 
taken  all  night  to  have  ferried  us  across.  The  river 
in  the  channel  for  about  fifty  feet  was  deep  enough 
to  compel  a  team  to  swim.  The  wagons  were  about 
empty,  as  all  the  commissaries  were  about  used  up. 
I  suggested  to  the  wagonmaster,  Jim  Duncan,  that  we 
swim  the  outfit  over.  After  some  talk  he  consented 
to  do  so.  Being  mounted  on  a  sorrel  mule,  he  waded 
out  in  the  river  to  the  edge  of  the  channel,  with  a 
whip  in  his  hand,  and,  as  we  drove  out  to  where  he 
stood,  he  headed  the  teams  upstream.  This  was  a 
wonderful  and  exciting  experience,  as  some  mules  were 


Page  173  HARDKNOCKS 

good  swimmers;  others  would  not  swim,  but  as  the 
channel  was  not  wide,  by  the  time  the  wheelers  were 
compelled  to  swim,  the  leaders  were  far  enough  across 
to  touch  the  bottom. 

We  succeeded  in  crossing  the  outfit  in  about  two 
hours  without  losing  a  mule  or  having  any  serious 
accident.  Jim  then  corraled  the  outfit,  the  mules 
braying  all  the  time,  when  suddenly  there  loomed  up, 
coming  from  the  post,  two  large  loads  of  hay.  At  the 
sight  of  this  hay,  the  starved  mules  became  almost 
unmanageable,  jumping  over  the  wagon  tongue  to 
which  they  were  tied  three  on  a  side,  getting  tangled 
up  in  their  halter  shanks;  some  breaking  away  from 
the  tongue  and  running  toward  the  loads  of  hay,  tear- 
ing into  it,  grasping  great  mouthfuls  and  devouring 
it.  After  feeding  the  teams,  giving  them  all  they 
could  eat,  two  more  wagons  arrived  loaded  with  sacks 
of  oats.  We  then  attached  our  feed  box  to  the  wagon 
tongue  and  fed  them  all  they  could  eat.  We  remained 
in  this  camp  for  five  days,  and  it  is  wonderful  how 
these  mules  picked  up  flesh  and,  mule-like,  they  would 
kick  one's  head  off  if  he  were  not  very  careful  while 
wandering  among  them.  Such  is  mule  gratitude. 

I  have  mentioned  a  great  deal  the  expression  "six- 
mule  team"  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  readers,  I  will 
describe  a  six-mule  team,  then  in  use  by  the  gov- 
ernment. 

Starting  in  at  the  wagon,  the  two  mules  hitched, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  tongue,  were  termed  wheelers 
or  wheel-mules.  Attached  to  the  end  of  this  tongue 
was  what  was  termed  a  gooseneck,  and  attached  to 
this  gooseneck  was  what  were  called  spreaders,  which 
consisted  of  a  straight  bar,  and  on  each  end  of  this 
bar  were  single-trees,  and  to  these  were  attached 
what  was  called  the  swing  team.  Also  from  the  end 
of  this  tongue  was  attached  a  chain  about  twelve 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  174 

feet  long,  called  a  fifth  chain,  running  between  the 
swing  mules.  Suspended  from  the  inside  hame  of  each 
swing-mule  was  a  small  chain  with  a  ring  in  the 
center,  through  which  the  fifth  chain  ran.  This  ap- 
pliance was  to  keep  the  chain  from  sagging  on  the 
ground.  To  the  end  of  this  chain  was  another  pair 
of  spreaders,  lighter  in  construction  than  the'  one  at 
the  end  of  the  tongue,  and  to  this  was  attached  the 
lead  mules.  To  the  near  lead  mule  or  left-hand  mule, 
from  a  small  chain  suspended  from  the  lower  part*  of 
the  bit  of  the  bridle  was  attached  a  strap  made  of 
leather  about  an  inch  and  a  half  wide  on  that  end,  in- 
creasing in  width  and  reaching  back  to  the  wheel- 
mule.  This  was  called  a  lead  line.  The  driver  of  the 
team  sat  in  a  saddle  on  the  near  wheel-mule,  holding 
this  strap  in  his  hand  when  guiding  the  team.  To  the 
outer  hame  of  the  outside  lead-mule  was  attached 
what  was  known  as  a  jockey  stick,  which  was  about 
the  size  of  a  broom-stick.  The  opposite  end  of  this 
stick  was  attached  to  the  bit  of  the  off-lead  mule  or 
the  right-hand  one.  If  one  wanted  the  team  to  go 
to  the  right  or  gee,  as  it  was  called,  the  teamster 
jerked  his  lead  line,  and  the  near  lead-mule,  having 
been  previously  broken,  would  immediately  turn  to  the 
right,  forcing  its  mate  to  go  likewise.  If  the  team- 
ster wanted  to  turn  haw  or  to  the  left,  he  pulled  on 
the  lead  line  and  they  immediately  turned.  The  traces 
used  in  those  days  were  made  of  chain,  covered  with 
leather,  which  was  called  piping.  This  piping  would 
become  worn  and  the  consequences  would  be  that  the 
bare  chain  would  skin  the  mule  up  awfully,  and  I  be- 
lieve that  this  is  why  they  termed  teamsters  "mule- 
skinners." 

In  those  days  there  were  no  brakes  on  a  gov- 
ernment wagon,  and  if  we  wanted  to  stop  our  team, 
we  had  to  depend  entirely  upon  the  wheelers  to  do  so. 
They  were  also  broken  mules  and  at  the  word  "whoa," 


Page  175  HARD   KNOCKS 

they  would  sit  back  in  their  breeching,  spreading  out 
from  the  tongue  and  with  a  chain,  which  was  attached 
from  the  end  of  the  tongue  to  their  hames,  they  would 
hold  back  for  dear  life,  and  it  is  astonishing  to  me 
now  how  they  ever  did  it.  In  going  down  very  steep 
hills,  we  used  a  lock  chain,  which  was  attached  to 
each  side  of  the  wagon  near  the  hind  wheels,  and  loop- 
ing this  to  the  rim  of  the  wheel  behind  a  spoke,  we 
would  attach  it  with  a  hook  and  a  small  ring  fitting 
over  the  end  of  the  hook.  This  made  the  wheels 
stationary.  Again,  in  going  down  very  steep  hills,  we 
used  a  larger  chain,  which  was  called  rough-locking. 
With  the  free  end  of  this,  we  took  two  or  three  turns 
around  the  rim  of  the  wheel,  then  making  it  fast, 
allowed  it  to  drag  on  the  ground  under  the  wheels; 
thus  the  term  "rough-locking." 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  176 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

JIM  DUNCAN,  THE  GREAT  WAGONMASTER  —  CAMP 
STAMBO  IN  THE  SHOSHONE  INDIAN  COUNTRY- 
TRANSFERRING  CAVALRY  COMPANIES— BACK  TO 
FORT  STEELE  AND  FORT  SAUNDERS— MY  ONLY 
EXPERIENCE  AS  A  WAGONMASTER  —  PARKING 
WOOD  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  NEAR  FORT  FETTER- 
MAN—ATTACKED  BY  THE  INDIANS,  WHO  KILLED 
MY  PARTNER,  MACK,  THE  WOOD-CHOPPER. 

JIM  DUNCAN  was  one  of  the  oldest  of  old-time 
wagonmasters  in  the  west  in  those  days.  He 
had  driven  a  spike  team  in  the  Mexican  War. 
He  had  also  acted  as  wagonmaster  during  our 
rebellion  and  after  that  unpleasant  affair  he, 
like  hundreds  of  others,  drifted  to  the  far  west.  Jim 
stood  almost  seven  feet;  very  raw  boned  in  physique, 
long  arms  and  legs,  with  very  large  hands  and  feet, 
a  steel  gray  eye,  which  was  very  piercing  when  he 
looked  at  one,  and  a  man  absolutely  fearless.  His  face 
was  considerably  scarred  up,  for  in  his  young  days 
he  had  participated  in  many  broils,  though  not  of  his 
own  seeking.  He  dressed  entirely  in  soldiers  clothes, 
wearing  high  topped  boots,  pants  tucked  in  at  the 
top.  In  cold  weather  he  wore  a  cavalry  coat  and 
a  black  slouched  hat,  and  I  assure  you  he  was  the 
picture  of  manhood  and  one  of  the  most  kind-hearted 
men  I  ever  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting.  He  admitted 
to  me  one  day  that  he  was  eighty-five  years  of  age. 
Jim  Duncan  was  a  great  smoker  and  one  scarcely 
ever  saw  him  without  his  little  briarwood  pipe  in  his 
mouth.  This  pipe  he  would  light,  draw  on  it  two  or 
three  times,  then  forget  to  draw  and  let  it  go  out. 
He  carried  with  him  a  pocketful  of  matches  and  was 
continually  relighting  his  pipe.  This  amused  us 
teamsters  very  much  and  I  kept  tab  on  him  one  day 


Page  177  HARDKNOCKS 

and  in  one-half  hour  he  had  lighted  his  pipe  twenty 

times,  each  time  saying,  "D this  pipe ;  I  can't  seem 

to  keep  it  lighted,  and  when  I  get  time,  I'm  going  to 

clean  the  d thing  from  mouth-piece  to  bowl,"  but 

I  am  quite  sure  that  pipe  was  never  cleaned. 

It  was  said  of  Jim  that  he  had  worked  so  long 
for  the  government  that  he  could  not  sleep  unless 
the  odor  of  a  mule  permeated  the  air.  His  feet  being 
so  large,  compelled  him  to  have  his  boots  made  to 
order,  and  on  going  to  bed  at  night,  myself  and  two 
others  occupying  the  same  tent  with  him  and  sleeping 
side  by  side  in  our  blankets,  we  noticed  that  he  always 
put  his  boots  under  his  head,  same  acting  as  a  pillow. 
In  getting  up  in  the  morning  very  early,  the  tent  being 
dark,  he  would  fumble  around,  extracting  his  right 
boot  first.  In  pulling  it  on,  he  would  use  a  great  deal 
of  profanity,  damning  his  big  feet  and  after  a  great 
deal  of  stamping  around,  would  finally  get  his  boots  on. 
The  left  boot  he  had  no  trouble  with.  One  night  I 
suggested  to  one  of  the  teamsters  that  we  steal  his 
right  boot,  which  we  did,  secreting  it  under  the 
blankets  at  the  lower  end  of  our  bed.  Jim  got  up  in 
the  morning  as  usual  and  taking  the  left  boot,  tried 
to  put  it  on  the  right  foot,  and  I  assure  you  the  air 
was  blue  in  that  tent.  Finally  he  lit  a  candle,  then 
discovering  that  he  had  the  left  boot,  he  woke  us  up, 
or  thought  he  did,  and  demanded  his  other  boot.  We 
all  helped  him  hunt  for  it,  finally  finding  it.  He  took 
it  in  his  hand  and  looking  at  it  a  moment,  said: 

"Either  that  d boot  or  I  am  crazy,  and  I  believe 

I  am  the  crazy  one."    This  caused  a  great  deal  of 
laughter. 

I  remember  another  time  when  many  of  us  team- 
sters were  in  a  variety  show  in  Cheyenne,  kept  by  a 
man  named  McDaniels,  and  on  this  occasion  the 
audience  (which  was  large)  ran  this  show  to  suit 
themselves — taking  possession  of  the  stage,  etc.,  and 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  178 

if  an  actor  or  actress,  or  both,  did  not  do  their  turn 
to  suit,  the  audience  would  not  allow  the  curtain  to  be 
lowered  and  made  them  do  it  over  again.  Jim  this 
night  was  behind  the  scenes,  the  curtain  dropped  and 
he  started  to  cross  the  stage,  when  someone  suddenly 
raised  the  curtain.  This  exposed  him  about  the 
center  of  the  stage.  The  audience  yelled  with  delight, 
many  of  them  rushing  on  the  stage,  catching  Jim, 
compelled  him  to  do  a  turn  before  they  would  release 
him.  This  he  did,  singing  in  a  cracked  voice,  with- 
out an  accompaniment,  that  old-time  song,  "Betsy 
from  Pike."  At  the  end  of  this  song,  he  danced  an 
old-time  jig.  We  compelled  him  to  do  this  act  three 
times,  when  the  old  fellow  was  exhausted.  This 
made  the  greatest  hit  that  ever  appeared  in  McDaniels' 
Theatre. 

The  Jenny  expedition  disbanded  at  Fort  Laramie; 
soldiers  and  citizens  being  paid  five  months'  wages. 
An  order  then  came  from  the  War  Department  to 
transfer  Company  M  of  the  2nd  Cavalry  to  Camp 
Stambo,  which  was  situated  in  the  Wind  River  Valley 
in  the  Shoshone  Indian  country.  From  there  we 
moved  E  of  the  2nd  Cavalry  to  Fort  Saunders.  With 
this  transfer  went  twenty-five  six-mule  teams,  I  being 
one  of  the  drivers  and  Duncan  as  wagonmaster.  We 
started  on  the  30th  of  September  and  had  a  beautiful 
trip,  arriving  there  in  the  early  part  of  October. 

In  that  country  was  a  very  large  hot  springs  and 
old  Duncan  having  rheumatism  very  badly,  we  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  remain  there  for  a  month  in  hopes 
it  would  cure  him.  After  a  great  deal  of  persuasion 
he  finally  did  so.  Each  teamster  donated  a  share  of 
their  provisions,  or  rations,  and  gave  to  him.  This 
left  a  vacancy  for  a  wagonmaster.  Personally,  I  did 
not  want  the  position,  as  I  was  rather  quick  tempered 
in  those  days  and  could  not  get  along  with  army 
officers.  However,  Duncan  insisted  on  my  taking  the 


Page  179  HARD   KNOCKS 

job,  to  which  I  finally  consented.  Then  the  old  fellow 
began  to  warn  me  not  to  have  any  trouble  with  the 
officers  and  to  take  good  care  of  the  mules,  for  if 
anything  happened  it  would  reflect  upon  him,  as  he 
had  recommended  me.  I  promised  him  that  I  would 
do  the  best  I  could.  We  finally  started  for  Fort 
Steele  on  the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  railroad. 

We  had  not  left  the  post  to  exceed  four  hours  when 
I  had  a  misunderstanding  with  the  first  sergeant 
of  the  cavalry  company.  He  was  continually  annoying 
the  teamsters  and  finally  turned  on  me.  We  were  both 
mounted,  I  riding  Duncan's  saddle  mule  and  he  a 
cavalry  horse.  After  a  while  I  lost  my  temper,  rushed 
at  him;  when  he  attempted  to  draw  his  six-shooter, 
I  being  quicker  than  he,  struck  him  over  the  head 
with  my  gun,  knocking  him  from  the  horse.  The 
largest  part  of  the  company  were  away  in  advance  of 
e  teams.  The  soldiers  ran  to  him,  picking  him  up 
d  dressing  his  wounds,  tying  a  bandage  around 
his  head.  The  sergeant  then  mounted  his  horse  and 
riding  off,  reported  me  to  Captain  Peal,  telling  him 
a  lot  of  things  that  were  not  true. 

When  we  made  camp  that  evening,  the  lieutenant, 
who  was  acting  as  quartermaster,  detailed  a  corporal 
and  three  men,  instructing  them  to  bring  me  to  his 
tent.  They  found  me  up  in  the  mess  wagon  and 
ordered  me  to  come  with  them,  which  I  refused  to  do. 
The  corporal  attempted  to  get  up  in  the  hind  end  of 
the  wagon,  when  I  told  him  that  if  he  came  any 
farther,  I  would  kill  him.  By  this  time  the  teamsters 
had  gathered  around  the  wagon,  telling  me  that  they 
would  stand  by  me.  Hearing  the  commotion,  the 
lieutenant  came  up,  telling  the  corporal  to  get  up  in 
the  wagon  and  take  me  out.  I  told  the  lieutenant  that 
I  knew  soldiers  had  to  obey  orders  and  instead  of 
getting  this  man  injured,  for  him  to  come  up  and  take 
me  out.  He  immediately  took  me  at  my  word,  and  as 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  180 

he  arose  to  a  standing  position  in  the  wagon,  1  tackled 
him,  the  teamsters  holding  the  soldiers  back  so  they 
could  not  injure  me  or  assist  the  lieutenant.  Presently 
I  heard  the  words,  "What  is  all  this  trouble  about?" 
Looking  up,  I  saw  Captain  Peal.  He  knew  me,  having 
been  stationed  at  Fort  Laramie  previous  to  this.  They 
separated  us  and,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  the  Captain 
walked  me  down  to  his  tent  and  the  first  thing  he  did 
was  to  give  me  a  good,  stiff  drink  of  brandy;  then 
saying,  "Wagonmaster,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  your 
side  of  the  trouble  with  my  1st  Sergeant."  I  did  so, 
telling  him  the  truth.  He  then  said,  "  I  am  surprised 
at  you,  knowing  that  we  must  have  discipline,  and  I 
fear  that  you  have  gotten  into  serious  difficulties." 
He  then  gave  me  another  drink,  which  was  very  ac- 
ceptable under  the  circumstances;  he,  of  course,  each 
time  joining  me  in  the  drink. 

The  captain  then  said,  "I  do  not  want  to  punish 
you  severely,  but  I  should  order  you  in  irons  until  we 
arrive  at  Fort  Steele." 

I  replied,  "Captain,  I  am  a  citizen,  not  a  soldier,  and 
am  willing  to  quit  my  position  and  walk  back  to  Camp 
Stambo,  but  I  will  not  go  in  irons  alive." 

"Then  the  only  way  out  of  this  trouble  that  I  can 
see  is  to  form  the  company  in  line  and  have  you  make 
a  public  apology  to  the  lieutenant,  as  the  sergeant 
seems  to  be  satisfied  in  his  part  of  the  affair  and 
has  not  made  any  charge  against  you."  I  told  him 
no ;  that  I  could  not  even  dp  that.  Presently,  in  came 
the  lieutenant.  The  captain  again  passed  the  liquor 
around.  The  lieutenant  looking  at  both  of  us  said, 
"Captain,  this  is  a  pretty  husky  wagonmaster  we 
have." 

He  replied,  "Yes,  he  is  an  old  acquaintance  of  mine 
from  Fort  Laramie,  and  lieutenant,  if  this  man  apol- 


Page  181  HARDKNOCKS 

ogizes  to  you  here,  are  you  willing  to  let  the  matter 
drop?" 

The  lieutenant  replied,  "Yes,  sir.  I  will  do  better 
than  that.  After  his  apology,  I  will  shake  him  by  the 
hand,  for  it  takes  a  pretty  good  man  to  handle  me 
the  way  he  did,  and  I  was  very  glad  that  you  appeared 
on  the  scene  when  you  did,  for  I  fear  I  would  not 
have  been  able  to  have  continued  on  the  trip." 

I  made  the  apology  and  told  him  that  I  believed  he 
was  a  good  fellow  after  all.  We  then  took  another 
drink,  and  the  matter  ended  there.  The  balance  of 
the  trip  was  very  pleasant  to  all  concerned.  We 
finally  arrived  at  Fort  Steele,  remained  there  a  few 
days,  then  going  down  to  Fort  Saunders,  situated 
near  Laramie  City,  but  now  abandoned.  There  they 
turned  the  outfit  over  to  me  and  I  proceeded  on  to 
Camp  Carlin,  where  I  turned  the  teams  over  to  the 
superintendent  and  was  there  paid  my  wages.  The 
superintendent,  Perry  Organ,  asked  me  to  stay 
around  there  a  few  days  and  he  would  send  me  out  as 
a  wagonmaster  with  some  teams  going  north.  I 
thanked  him,  telling  him  that  I  had  no  more  desire 
to  be  a  wagonmaster.  I  remained  there  a  few  days 
until  I  got  rid  of  my  money  in  Cheyenne,  from  there 
going  to  Fort  Fetterman. 

Upon  arriving  at  Fort  Fetterman,  I  met  my  old 
friend,  Jack  Hunton.  Jack  informed  me  that  I  was  the 
very  man  he  was  looking  for.  He  had  the  wood  con- 
tract for  that  year  for  the  post  and  was  short  about 
fifty  cords  to  complete  the  contract.  The  Indians  were 
quite  bad  around  there  at  that  time  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult to  get  a  white  man  to  go  out  in  the  mountains. 
He  informed  me  that  this  wood  was  cut  and  piled  on 
very  steep  side  hills  in  the  mountains  twenty  miles 
from  there,  and  that  he  had  arranged  with  one  man 
named  "Old  Mack,"  the  wood-chopper,  but  required 


SARD   KNOCKS  Page  182 

another  to  go  with  him.  He  offered  me  ten  dollars  per 
day,  furnishing  a  mule-team,  wagon,  guns,  blankets 
and  provisions,  if  I  would  go,  and  help  park  this  wood 
— meaning  by  that,  to  haul  it  from  side  hills  to  where 
they  could  get  at  it  with  ox  teams  to  transport  it  to 
the  post.  I  told  him  it  depended  on  the  other  man, 
I  not  knowing  him  and  wanting  to  know  what  kind  of 
a  man  he  was.  I  was  introduced  to  the  other  man, 
and  after  talking  with  him  for  a  time,  found  he  was 
all  right.  I  then  accepted  the  position.  We  started 
out  next  morning,  arriving  at  the  spot  about  dark 
and  there  we  found  an  old  log  cabin,  it  having  been 
used  by  the  wood  choppers  and  there  we  made  camp. 

That  night  I  talked  the  matter  over  thoroughly 
with  Mack,  and  we  agreed  to  stay  together,  knowing 
the  Indians  were  bad,  and,  if  separated  at  any  time, 
we  were  not  under  any  circumstances  to  shoot  a  gun 
off  unless  it  were  at  an  Indian.  We  took  this  pre- 
caution as  game  was  very  plentiful  in  these  mountains. 
We  worked  there  for  five  days,  I  driving  the  team 
and  after  the  wagon  was  loaded,  we  rough-locked  it 
before  starting  down  the  steep  hillside.  Mack,  walk- 
ing on  the  offside  of  the  wagon,  carrying  both  of  the 
guns,  I  on  the  near  side,  driving  the  team,  walking  on 
the  ground,  as  it  would  be  dangerous  to  ride  on  the 
load  in  case  anything  should  break. 

On  the  sixth  day,  Mack  conceived  the  idea  of  burn- 
ing a  charcoal  pit,  he  haying  followed  that  occupation 
and  understood  it,  explaining  to  me  that  in  this  way 
we  could  make  some  side  money.  I  objected  to  this, 
reminding  him  of  our  agreement  and  also  telling  him 
that  it  was  not  treating  Hunton  right;  that  he  had 
employed  us  to  park*  wood,  not  to  burn  charcoal  pits. 
However,  he  finally  talked  me  into  it  and  selected  a 
place  inclosed  by  three  rocky  ridges,  on  the  edge  of 
a  deep,  rough  canyon  through  which  flowed  a  stream, 
jiamed  Box  Elder.  This  stream  emptied  into  the 


Page  183  HARDKNOCKS 

Platte  River,  ten  miles  below  there.  The  following 
morning  he  started  out  with  his  axe  in  one  hand  and 
gun  in  the  other.  We  each  carried  forty-one  rounds 
of  ammunition,  forty  of  which  were  in  a  belt  around 
our  bodies,  the  other  in  the  gun.  I  put  on  a  load  of 
wood,  now  being  alone  and  started  down  the  hillside. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  wagon  was  a  small 
stump  which  I  could  not  see.  I  ran  against  this  with 
the  off  f orewheel.  There  was  no  way  to  get  clear  of 
it  except  to  unload  the  wagon.  This,  of  course,  made 
me  very  angry  at  Mack.  However,  setting  my  gun 
against  the  rear  wagon  wheel,  I  started  to  throw  off 
the  wood  and  had  thrown  but  a  few  sticks  to  the 
ground,  when  I  heard  a  gun  shot  coming  from  the 
direction  where  Mack  was.  I  quickly  jumped  to  the 
ground  when  I  heard  the  second  shot.  Grasping  my 
gun,  I  ran  up  the  hillside  as  fast  as  I  could  and  when 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  top,  I  saw  two  Indians  dis- 
appear over  the  ridge  to  the  north.  I  knew  then  that 
Mack  was  killed.  In  a  few  moments  a  shot  was  fired 
from  the  opposite  direction  to  where  I  saw  the  two 
Indians.  Having  my  right  hand  around  the  breech  of 
the  gun  near  the  trigger,  the  shot  struck  my  finger, 
breaking  the  gun  at  the  breech.  Looking  over  my 
shoulder  I  saw  three  young  bucks  running  toward 
me,  occasionally  dodging  behind  a  rock.  I  could  not 
shoot  at  them  for  my  gun  was  out  of  commission  and 
I  dare  not  let  them  know  by  any  action  of  mine,  that 
such  was  the  case.  I  knew  my  only  chance  was  to 
get  down  into  Box  Elder  Canyon,  where  it  was  very, 
very  rough.  Occasionally  these  fellows  would  take  a 
shot  at  me,  but  fortunately  not  hitting  me,  and  when 
they  exposed  themselves,  I  would  point  my  gun  at 
them,  when  they  immediately  would  dodge  to  cover. 
I  would  then  run  farther  down  into  the  canyon, 
finally  getting  to  the  bottom  and  not  seeing  any  more 
of  my  pursuers,  I  headed  for  the  Platte  River,  crawl- 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  184 

ing  over  and  around  great  rocks  and  fallen  trees. 
Darkness  came  on,  but  I  still  kept  on  going  and  tired 
and  worn  out  I  eventually  reached  the  Platte  River 
about  daylight  next  morning.  I  then  had  open  country 
to  travel  in  and  reached  the  post  about  one  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  a  sorrowful  looking  sight,  my  finger 
giving  me  a  great  deal  of  pain  and  all  the  time  bleed- 
ing profusely.  I  had  my  finger  attended  to  by  the 
Post  surgeon,  to  whom  I  reported  the  affair,  then 
going  to  the  commanding  officer,  reported  it  again  to 
him.  He  looked  at  me  a  few  moments,  saying,  "It 
serves  you  right.  Why  did  you  go  out  into  the  hills 
when  you  knew  the  Indians  were  bad  around  there?" 
I  then  asked  him  if  he  would  give  me  an  ambulance 
and  a  small  escort  of  soldiers  to  go  out  and  bring  in 
the  body.  He  then  sent  his  orderly  for  some  other 
officers  and  after  some  conversation,  he  furnished  the 
escort,  I  going  with  them  and  riding  in  the  ambulance. 

We  got  started  about  four  in  the  afternoon  and 
traveling  rapidly  we  arrived  at  a  spring  about  two 
miles  from  where  the  body  lay.  The  officers  ordered 
a  halt;  I  supposed  for  the  purpose  of  watering  the 
horses,  but  to  my  astonishment,  they  began  un- 
saddling them.  I  asked  the  lieutenant  in  charge  if  he 
were  going  to  camp.  He  replied,  "Yes,  as  it  would 
be  dangerous  to  go  into  the  hills  at  that  hour  of  the 
night."  I  then  told  him  that  I  was  afraid  the  wolves 
would  eat  the  body  and  asked  him  to  detail  two 
soldiers  to  accompany  me  and  I  wrould  take  care  of 
the  body  until  they  arrived  in  the  morning.  He  finally 
did  so.  One  of  the  men  detailed  was  a  very  excitable 
fellow.  When  we  arrived  in  the  hills,  I  had  no  trouble 
finding  Mack's  body.  He  was  lying  on  his  face  with 
his  left  hand  under  his  breast,  his  right  hand  ex- 
tended, with  two  gun  shots  in  his  back,  also  an  arrow 
which  protruded  about  four  inches.  He  was  scalped 


Page  185  HARDKNOCKS 

completely,  except  for  a  little  hair  on  the  lower  part 
of  the  head. 

We  built  a  fire  close  by  the  body,  and  lay  down 
quite  a  distance  from  the  fire.  The  exciteable  man 
would  imagine  every  few  moments  that  he  saw  an 
Indian  crawling  up  on  us  and  wanted  to  shoot  at  him. 
We  had  great  trouble  in  convincing  him  that  there 
was  no  danger  from  Indians  at  that  time.  Daylight 
finally  came,  the  ambulance  and  escort  arriving,  when 
we  loaded  poor  old  Mack's  body  in  the  ambulance  and 
started  back  to  Fort  Fetterman,  arriving  there  about 
eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning.  We  immediately  buried 
Mack  as  the  stench  from  the  body  was  then  very  bad. 
This  ended  my  wood  parking  business  and  I  never 
learned  whether  the  job  was  completed  or  not. 

After  the  death  of  my  partner,  old  Mac,  I  resumed 
my  occupation  of  teamster  at  Fetterman,  but  only 
lasted  one  week.  There  were  two  cliques  of  officers 
at  that  post,  and  when  they  wanted  to  have  a  good 
time  they  would  select  Sunday.  Ordering  one  six- 
mule  team  hitched  up,  and  putting  liquid  refreshments 
in  the  wagon,  they  proceeded  up  the  Platte  River 
about  five  miles,  and  there  had  their  time.  It  was  an 
unwritten  law  in  all  posts  that  teamsters  did  not 
hitch  up  Sundays  unless  it  was  an  absolute  necessity. 
This  day  was  set  apart  for  teamsters  to  wash  and 
mend  their  clothes,  etc.  I  refused  to  hitch  up  when 
ordered  by  the  wagonmaster.  He  reported  me  to  the 
quartermaster.  I  was  then  put  under  arrest,  and 
finally  was  escorted  by  a  sergeant  and  four  men  to  the 
edge  of  the  post,  tied  face  up  on  a  brass  cannon  that 
was  used  to  fire  at  sunset  each  night.  There  I  re- 
mained for  twenty  minutes.  The  flies  were  very  plen- 
tiful, and  they  swarmed  on  my  face  and  hands,  get- 
ting up  my  nostrels  and  into  my  eyes.  After  releas- 
ing me,  I  still  stood  pat  and  would  not  hitch  up  the 
team.  I  was  then  put  in  the  guard  house  until  mid- 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  186 

night  and  in  the  morning  discharged  and  escorted  off 
the  reservation.  I  walked  to  Fort  Laramie,  a  black- 
balled teamster.  The  reader  would  naturally  ask,  why 
did  you  stand  for  this  treatment?  Simply  because  you 
could  not  help  yourself,  as  government  posts  were 
far  from  towns,  and  if  you  wished  to  remain  in  the 
post  and  follow  the  business  of  teamster  you  had  to 
stand  for  many  things.  The  officers  were  supreme. 


Page  187  HARD   KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XX. 

CUSTER  CITY,  THE  FIRST  TOWN  ESTABLISHED  IN  THE 
BLACK  HILLS— HEYDAY  TIMES  IN  THE  HILLS- 
PROVINCIAL  GOVERNMENT. 

ON  the  first  day  of  November,  1875,  there 
came  into  Fort  Laramie  a  Mr.  Jones,  Mart 
Gibbons,  Charley  Smith,  and  another  old 
gentleman,  whose  name  I  can't  recall.  The 
first  two  mentioned  I  knew  on  Red  Cloud 
Agency  when  I  worked  there.  They  had  a  four- 
horse  team  loaded  with  supplies  and  in  the  load  was 
a  barrel  of  high-proof  whiskey.  Jones  was  originally 
from  California,  having  kept  merchandising  stores  at 
various  mining  camps  in  that  country.  They  were  all 
well  armed  and  were  going  into  the  Black  Hills.  Jones 
and  Gibbons  invited  me  to  go  with  them.  We  started 
and  in  due  time  arrived  at  Jenny's  old  camp  on  French 
Creek.  There  we  found  quite  a  number  of  houses  of 
various  size  constructed  of  logs,  some  of  which  were 
hewn,  and  living  there  were  about  a  hundred  men, 
mostly  miners.  They  were  getting  good  pay  from  the 
creek  and  as  this  looked  good  to  us,  we  remained  there. 
Others  came.  The  town  grew  rapidly  and  I  finally 
concluded  to  go  into  the  saloon  business  in  a  small 
way.  Jones  having  this  barrel  of  whiskey,  I  knew 
I  could  get  a  starter  there,  but  where  to  get  the 
glasses  and  other  paraphernalia  that  would  be  neces- 
sary for  a  saloon,  I  did  not  know. 

However,  I  rented  one  of  the  vacant  buildings, 
intending  to  start  up  with  the  whiskey  alone.  In  a 
few  days  a  large  outfit  arrived  there  and  among  them 
was  an  old  friend  of  mine  named  Sam  Gaylord,  whom 
I  used  to  know  in  Dodge  City,  Kansas.  He  had  a  bar 
outfit,  intending  to  go  into  the  saloon  business.  Gay- 
lord  having  brought  plenty  of  liquor  with  him  of 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  188 

various  kinds  and  I  having  the  location,  we  entered 
into  a  partnership  and  opened  up  the  best  equipped 
saloon  that  was  ever  conducted  in  Custer  City. 

After  the  town  began  to  get  established,  the 
leading  citizens  called  a  meeting  for  the  purpose  of 
forming  some  kind  of  local  government  there  and 
finally  decided  to  have  a  provincial  government.  The 
next  night  they  met  again.  These  meetings  were  held 
in  our  saloon,  which  of  course  brought  business  to 
our  bar.  They  then  appointed  a  man  named  Farnum 
for  Mayor;  another  by  the  name  of  Keiffer,  was  ap- 
pointed Justice  of  the  Peace;  appointed  another  man 
as  prosecuting  attorney,  whose  name  I  forgot;  John 
Burrows  was  made  marshal.  Burrows  was  from 
Denver,  Colorado,  and  had  been  marshal  there.  He 
was  quite  large  in  stature  and  always  wore  two  large 
six-shooters  stuck  in  his  belt.  The  appointment  of 
marshal  had  been  first  offered  to  me,  but  I  refused. 
Four  days  later  the  Mayor  and  Prosecuting  Attorney 
concluded  that  Burrows  should  have  a  deputy,  as  the 
hours  were  too  long  for  one  man.  They  advised  me  to 
take  this  position  and  as  it  would  make  me  more 
popular  and  would  bring  business  to  the  saloon,  I 
accepted,  taking  the  watch  from  twelve  noon  until 
twelve  midnight;  Burrows  taking  the  other  shift. 

In  the  meantime  people  were  arriving  in  large 
numbers  and  it  kept  both  Burrows  and  myself  quite 
busy  keeping  order.  The  principle  of  this  provincial 
government  was,  that  if  the  law  was  broken  in  any 
way,  we  tried  the  offender  in  day  light,  subpoening  a 
jury  of  twelve  men  and,  if  he  had  means,  he  had  the 
privilege  of  employing  an  attorney  or  some  one  to 
defend  him.  If  found  guilty  of  a  serious  offense,  we 
would  send  him  to  Cheyenne,  where  he  could  be  tried 
in  a/*recognized  court  of  justice.  If  not  serious,  we 
always  fined  him  in  dollars  and  cents,  this  money  being 
used  to  defray  expenses  of  our  government. 


Page  189  HARD   KNOCKS 

One  afternoon  while  I  was  on  duty,  I  was  sitting 
in  a  barber's  chair  getting  shaved.  The  barber  had 
just  lathered  my  face,  when  I  heard  a  gun  shot  and  in 
a  few  moments  another  shot.  I  snatched  the  towel 
from  my  neck  and  wiping  off  the  lather,  rushed  out 
of  the  door,  and  saw  a  man  lying  on  the  ground  and 
another  man  standing  over  him  with  a  six-shooter  in 
his  hand.  They  were  in  front  of  a  saloon  about  fifty 
yards  away  from  where  I  stood;  the  saloon  being 
situated  on  the  bank  of  the  creek.  With  others  I  ran 
down  there  and  sneaking  up  behind  the  man  who  was 
standing,  caught  him  around  the  arms  pinning  them 
to  his  side,  and  asked  some  one  in  the  crowd  to 
disarm  him,  which  they  did.  I  then  hurried  him  into 
a  vacant  log  cabin  close  by,  closing  the  door  and 
barring  it  and  admitting  only  two  others  with  me. 
We  then  found  that  the  man  who  did  the  shooting  was 
intoxicated  and  was  very  much  excited.  I  told  him 
to  compose  himself  as  I  wanted  to  ask  him  some 
questions.  He  sat  down  on  the  floor  and  cried  like 
a  child,  but  finally  controlling  himself,  when  I  asked 
him  why  he  had  killed  the  other  man.  He  replied, 
"My  God,  is  he  dead?  He  is  my  partner  and  the 
best  friend  I  ever  had  in  the  world."  Further  question- 
ing him  for  his  name  and  where  he  was  from,  he  told 
me  he  was  Tom  Milligan  and  that  he  was  from  Eureka, 
Nevada.  I  then  left  him  in  charge  of  the  other  two 
men  and,  going  out  of  doors,  inquired  of  two  or  three 
persons  who  saw  the  shooting,  how  it  occurred. 

I  learned  from  these  men  that  Milligan  and  his 
partner  staggered  out  of  the  saloon  door,  his  partner 
telling  Milligan  to  take  a  shot  at  an  oaken  bucket 
that  we  used  in  drawing  water  from  a  well,  situated  in 
the  center  of  the  town.  Milligan  did  so.  He  then 
said,  "Shoot  again,  Tom."  As  Tom  did  so,  his  partner 
staggered  in  front  of  him  and  the  ball  penetrated  his 
head  above  the  right  eye,  killing  him  instantly. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  190 

A  very  large  crowd  in  the  meantime  had  gathered 
around  the  cabin  where  I  had  him  confined,  and  not 
knowing  the  particulars  of  the  shooting,  made  threats 
that  they  wanted  to  hang  him.  I  talked  to  them,  tell- 
ing them  about  our  form  of  government  there  and 
that  we  would  give  him  a  trial  the  following  day,  and 
that  they  must  not  harm  him.  Some  agreed  to  this, 
while  others  threatened  what  they  would  do.  By  this 
time  it  was  getting  dark  and  I  entered  the  cabin  and 
talked  with  Milligan.  He  told  me  he  knew  that  he 
would  be  hanged  that  night.  I  replied,  "If  they  hang 
you  tonight,  they  will  have  to  kill  me  first;  and  to 
show  you  I  mean  what  I  say,  I  will  send  one  of  these 
men  up  to  my  saloon  and  have  him  bring  down  here 
two  guns,  one  a  shotgun  loaded  with  buckshot  and  the 
other  a  Winchester.  You  can  take  one  and  I  the  other 
and  when  it  gets  a  little  darker,  I  am  going  to  take 
you  down  the  creek  to  where  I  have  a  long  cabin,  and 
there  you  will  be  safer  than  you  are  here." 

This  surprised  him  very  much  and  gave  him  great 
confidence  in  me.  I  then  sent  one  of  the  men  to  my 
place.  He  procured  the  guns  and  brought  them  to  me. 
I  offered  Milligan  his  choice  and  he  took  the  Win- 
chester. 

Four  or  five  of  my  friends  wanted  to  assist  me  in 
protecting  the  prisoner,  but  I  told  them  no,  and  that 
they  could  better  protect  him  by  mingling  among  the 
crowd,  advising  the  crowd  to  wait  until  the  morrow 
before  they  attempted  any  violence,  and  that  I  would 
assure  them  that  they  would  change  their  minds  when 
they  heard  the  evidence.  This  they  did.  I  then  took 
Milligan  down  to  the  cabin  mentioned,  remaining  there 
until  nine  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

When  I  brought  the  prisoner  up  to  the  building 
used  for  the  courtroom,  it  was  crowded.  And  there 
I  discovered  Milligan  was  a  prominent  Mason  in  good 


Page  191  HARDKNOCKS 

standing.  Personally,  I  am  not  a  Mason,  but  1  could 
readily  see  in  the  actions  of  men  whom  I  knew  were, 
that  Milligan  would  get  a  fair  and  square  trial.  About 
this  time  Burrows  appeared  on  the  scene  and  strutted 
around  like  a  peacock,  being  very  officious.  I  had 
sent  the  two  men  the  night  previous  to  find  Burrows, 
but  he  could  not  be  found.  This  convinced  me  that  he 
was  a  coward,  and  I  paid  no  attention  to  him.  We 
gave  Milligan  his  trial  and  the  jury  acquitted  him, 
except  that  they  fined  him  twenty-five  dollars  for 
shooting  his  gun  off  within  the  city  limits. 

The  trial  over,  we  buried  Milligan's  partner  that 
afternoon.  Milligan  attended  the  funeral,  I  walking 
by  his  side,  and  never  in  my  life  have  I  seen  a  man 
so  deeply  affected.  There  were  many  in  the  town  who 
still  wished  to  hang  him,  and  thinking  they  might  in- 
jure him,  I  advised  him  to  leave  Custer  that  night.  He 
told  me  he  had  no  horse.  I  loaned  him  mine  and  he 
left  about  ten  o'clock.  I  told  him  if  he  arrived  at 
Fort  Laramie  safely  to  send  the  horse  back  to  me  by 
someone  he  could  trust.  Fortunately,  when  he  ar- 
rived at  Laramie,  he  met  his  brother  Ed,  who  was 
also  from  Eureka,  and  of  course  told  him  about  the 
manner  in  which  I  had  treated  him  and  about  his 
trouble,  turning  the  horse  over  to  Ed,  who  arrived  in 
Custer  in  due  time,  and  we  naturally  became  great 
friends. 

I  never  knew  what  became  of  Tom  after  he 
reached  Laramie,  but  poor  Ed  two  years  later,  I  heard, 
shot  himself  accidentally  and  died  from  the  wounds 
in  Sidney,  Nebraska. 

After  this  experience,  I  concluded  I  did  not  want 
any  more  of  the  "marshal  business,"  and  resigned  the 
following  day.  This  killing  was  the  first  white  man 
killed  by  one  of  his  own  race  in  the  Black  Hills. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  192 


CHAPTER  XXL 

ORGANIZING  THE  CUSTER  CITY  SCOUTS  —  CAPTAIN 
JACK  CRAWFORD,  THE  POST  SCOUT— THE  DEAD- 
WOOD  STAMPEDE— JIM  WALL— A  DYING  CONFES- 
FESSION  FROM  A  MAN  WHO  DID  NOT  DIE. 

REQUIRING  more  buildings  in  the  town,  quite 
a  number  of  men  engaged  in  the  occupation 
of  cutting  and  hauling  logs  suitable  for  that 
purpose,  the  trees  growing  on  a  ridge  about 
two  miles  distant.     While  engaged  in  this 
business  the  Sioux  Indians  killed  two  of  the  party, 
and  the  men  refused  to  continue  work  until  the  citi- 
zens called  a  meeting  to  discuss  some  means  of  protec- 
tion for  them.     This  the  citizens  did,  the  meeting 
taking  place  in  my  saloon. 

The  evening  of  the  meeting  there  arrived  in  the 
town  a  man  with  long  hair,  broad-brimmed  hat  and 
wearing  a  buckskin  jacket.  Hearing  of  the  meeting, 
he  came  down  into  the  saloon  and  introduced  himself 
to  me  as  Jack  Crawford  and  said  he  was  a  corres- 
pondent for  the  Omaha  Bee,  and  would  like  to  report 
this  meeting.  I  introduced  him  to  the  mayor  and  two 
others,  who  granted  him  the  privilege  sought.  At 
the  meeting  we  concluded  to  appoint  five  men  to  act 
as  guards  for  the  log  cutters,  and  named  them  the 
Ouster  City  Scouts.  Later  in  the  evening  Crawford 
took  me  aside,  saying,  "Young,  the  principal  part  of 
my  business  out  here  is  to  make  a  reputation,  study 
the  habits  of  the  country,  and,  if  possible,  to  learn 
something  of  the  Sioux  Indians."  He  also  told  me 
that  he  was  a  poet,  and  in  an  off-hand  way,  quoted 
some  poetry  of  the  Bret  Harte  style,  which  I  consid- 
ered very  good.  He  then  asked  me  if  I  could  have 
him  appointed  chief  of  our  scouts.  Having  made  a 
good  impression  upon  me,  I  told  him  I  would  talk  with 


t 


ft 


J 


Page  193  HARD   KNOCKS 

the  mayor,  and  I  asked  him  to  call  on  me  next  morn- 
ing. The  mayor  and  others  took  kindly  to  the  propo- 
sition and  the  following  day  we  appointed  him  the 
chief.  We  then  notified  the  log  cutters  of  what  had 
taken  place  and  they  immediately  resumed  work  under 
the  guard  appointed. 

This  was  the  means  of  bringing  Crawford  his  first 
notoriety  as  a  scout.  He  was  a  temperate  man,  neither 
drinking  nor  using  tobacco;  something  very  unusual 
in  those  days.  He  became  very  popular  there  and 
entertained  us  very  often  with  his  poems. 

Crawford  being  out  one  day  on  a  scouting  trip  alone, 
found  lying  in  the  grass,  very  sick,  what  he  supposed 
to  be  a  full-blooded  Sioux  Indian.  Jack  gave  him  some 
water,  and  seeing  his  chance  to  learn  something  of  the 
Indian  characteristics,  secretly  brought  this  sick  man 
to  his  cabin  after  dark,  and  took  care  of  him,  not 
letting  any  of  the  citizens  know,  as  he  feared  they 
might  kill  him.  The  Indian  finally  became  so  sick 
that  he  concluded  he  was  going  to  die,  and  turning 
to  Jack  said  in  good  English,  "Go  down  and  bring 
Young  up  here.  I  knew  him  at  Fort  Fetterman  and 
know  that  he  would  like  to  talk  with  me." 

I  went  to  his  cabin  and  was  much  surprised  to  find 
that  the  supposed  Indian  was  Jules  Seminole,  a  half- 
breed  Sioux,  but  a  renegade,  and  I  knew  that  he  was 
worse  than  any  full-blood.  He  asked  Crawford  to 
step  out  of  the  room,  as  he  wished  to  tell  me  some- 
thing. 

The  reader  will  recall  the  shooting  of  my  partner, 
old  Mack,  the  wood-chopper,  near  Fetterman.  Sem- 
inole told  me  that  Jie  was  a  brother-in-law  of  a  man 
named  Sneed  Stagner,  who  was  a  squaw-man  and 
took  sub-contracts  for  cordwood  for  Fort  Fetterman. 
Stagner  owed  old  Mack  three  hundred  dollars  for 
chopping  wood,  and  to  cancel  his  debt,  he  gave  Sem- 
inole one  hundred  dollars  to  kill  old  Mack.  He  also 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  194 

said  it  was  he  and  another  Indian  I  saw  running  over 
the  point  of  the  ridge  and  that  I  was  lucky  the  other 
three  Indians  who  were  with  him  did  not  get  my 
scalp.  I  was  dumbfounded  with  his  story.  I  thought 
the  matter  over  and  decided  to  wait  and  see  if  Sem- 
inole  recovered.  If  so,  I  would  then  place  him  under 
arrest  and  take  him  to  Cheyenne,  where  he  would  re- 
ceive proper  punishment. 

My  decision  showed  poor  judgment,  however,  for 
two  weeks  later  Seminole  suddenly  disappeared,  tak- 
ing with  him  Crawford's  horse.  I  regretted  then  that 
I  had  not  given  him  his  just  deserts.  I  learned  later 
that  he  was  hanged  in  South  Dakota  for  murdering 
a  sheep  herder,  and  I  hope  the  report  is  true.  Years 
after  this  Crawford  had  shows  out  on  the  road,  him- 
self being  leading  man.  Of  course,  his  plays  were  of 
the  Indian  character,  and  I  understand  that  he  has 
made  a  great  deal  of  money. 

One  day  there  arrived  in  Custer  three  four-horse 
teams,  the  wagons  containing  a  large  saloon  outfit 
and  fourteen  dance-hall  girls.  They  had  come  from 
Cheyenne  and  were  brought  in  there  by  a  man  named 
Al  Swarringer.  Accompanying  them  were  eight  men 
who  were  gamblers.  Their  arrival  created  quite  a 
commotion  as  we  now  knew  we  were  going  to  have 
some  amusement.  Swarringer  immediately  con- 
structed a  large  log  building,  flooring  it,  and  in  the 
rear  erected  fourteen  stalls,  or  rooms,  where  the  girls 
slept.  At  the  back  of  the  building  was  a  shed  in 
which  they  cooked  and  ate.  This  new  enterprise  took 
the  town  by  storm  and  Swarringer  made  a  great  deal 
of  money  there.  Among  these  girls  was  one  named 
Georgia  Dow,  whom  I  had  known  in  Hayes  City,  Kan- 
sas. Georgia  was  the  queen  of  the  dance-hall  girls 
in  Custer,  she  having  been  a  long  time  in  the  busi- 
ness. She  remained  in  that  country  until  the  fall  of 
1876,  following  her  occupation,  when  she  went  to 


Page  195  HARD    KNOCKS 

Sydney,  Nebraska,  partially  reforming,  and  I  have 
been  told  she  died  at  the  age  of  60.  This  is  very  re- 
markable, as  that  class  of  girls  dissipated  awfully  and 
were  frightfully  abused  by  their  lovers,  who  took 
from  them  all  they  could  earn  and  frequently  pun- 
ished them  severely  when  they  did  not  earn  enough. 
Georgia  was  a  very  kind-hearted  girl  and  when  any- 
one was  sick  or  injured,  she  was  the  first  to  offer  her 
assistance. 

One  afternoon  there  walked  into  niy  saloon  my 
friend  Botsford,  of  whom  I  have  previously  spoken. 
He  quietly  informed  me  that  he  had  discovered  rich 
diggings  on  a  stream  he  had  named  Deadwood,  which 
was  seventy-five  miles  northwest  from  Custer.  The 
name  Deadwood  was  derived  from  the  large  amount 
of  dead  timber  found  along  the  stream.  He  exhibited 
two  well-filled  pokes  or  sacks  of  gold,  and  remarked 
that  he  had  staked  out  a  claim  for  me  and  that  he  had 
come  in  for  supplies,  intending  to  return  in  a  few  days. 
Botsford  asked  me  not  to  mention  this  fact  until  he 
had  gone,  as  it  would  cause  a  stampede,  but  to  go 
there  as  soon  as  I  could  settle  my  affairs  in  Custer; 
adding,  that  if  a  stampede  occurred,  he  would  be  un- 
able to  hold  the  claim  for  me  unless  I  were  present. 
In  three  days  he  left.  On  the  fifth  day  the  news  in 
some  way  had  leaked  out  about  the  discovery,  but 
through  what  source  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  do  know, 
however,  that  I  had  not  mentioned  it  to  anyone — and 
such  a  stampede  was  never  witnessed  again  in  that 
country.  The  town  was  practically  deserted  in  twenty- 
four  hours. 

My  partner  also  got  the  fever,  and  without  telling 
me,  went  to  the  corral  and  borrowed  my  horse,  saddle 
and  bridle.  This  left  me  a  building  and  saloon  fix- 
tures on  hand,  but  no  customers.  In  about  ten  days 
I  concluded  to  migrate  to  the  new  diggings,  and,  nail- 
ing up  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  saloon,  departed. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  196 

Arriving  at  Deadwood  in  due  time,  I  found  my  claim 
was  jumped.  On  going  to  Botsford  and  telling  him 
of  the  fact,  he  said,  "Don't  worry.  I  have  another 
one  staked  out  for  you  on  Whitewood."  Whitewood 
was  a  branch  of  Deadwood.  I  worked  this  claim  with 
four  other  men,  but  could  not  find  the  pay  streak,  and 
when  my  ready  cash  was  gone,  I  abandoned  it.  Others 
took  possession  of  it,  but  never  found  anything  of 
value  and  it  was  known  as  a  blank. 

It  being  very  difficult  and  expensive  to  get  a  loca- 
tion in  the  town  of  Deadwood,  which  was  building  up 
very  rapidly,  no  one  paid  much  attention  to  the  loca- 
tion of  his  house.  The  gulch  was  very  deep  and  nar- 
row, and  on  the  north  side  was  a  very  high  ridge  con- 
sisting of  great  rocks,  which  made  it  impossible  to 
build  against  the  side  hill.  I  finally  concluded  I  would 
go  to  work.  A  man  named  Bill  Nuttle  had  partly 
completed  a  large,  hewed  log  building,  and -having  ex- 
pended afl  his  money  in  doing  so,  was  compelled  to  dis- 
pose of  the  building  as  it  stood.  Carl  Mann  and  Jerry 
Lewis  purchased  it  and  completed  it.  Mann  was  a 
saloon  man  and  Lewis  a  gambler, — one  from  Montana 
and  the  other  from  Nebraska. 

These  men  named  this  saloon  "Sixty-six."  They 
employed  me  to  attend  to  the  bar.  After  opening 
they  sent  a  wagon,  drawn  by  a  four-horse  team,  to 
Ouster  City  to  bring  in  my  liquors  that  I  had  left 
there,  intending  to  pay  me  for  them.  On  arriving 
there  they  found  the  saloon  broken  open  and  every- 
thing of  value  gone.  The  "Sixty-six"  saloon  was  one 
of  the  largest  in  that  country  at  this  time.  We  had 
in  operation  two  faro  games,  a  chuckaluck  game  and 
a  twenty-one  game.  Poker  and  other  short  card 
games  were  also  played.  The  town  was  booming, 
great  numbers  of  people  coming  in  each  day  from  the 
north  and  the  south.  The  diggings  were  shallow  and 
rich,  and  a  great  deal  of  gold  dust  was  taken  out  in  a 


Page  197  HARDKNOCKS 

short  time.  One  of  the  most  successful  miners  was 
a  man  named  Jack  McAller,  commonly  called  Black 
Jack  on  account  of  his  dark  complexion  and  hair.  This 
fellow  was  looked  upon  as  king  of  the  town,  but  of 
course,  there  were  many  lesser  lights  who  were  all 
great  money  spenders,  as  pioneers  of  this  sort  usually 
are.  Swarringer  had  moved  his  dance-hall  girls  from 
Custer,  using  a  building  opposite  the  saloon  as  a  dance 
hall. 

The  circulating  medium  of  the  town  was  gold  dust. 
If  a  greenback  showed  up,  it  was  immediately  put  out 
of  circulation,  as  it  was  much  easier  to  remit  for  sup- 
plies than  gold  dust.  Every  saloon  and  business  house 
had  gold  scales  for  weighing  the  dust,  and  I  became 
very  expert  at  this  business  and  had  the  reputation 
at  that  time  of  being  the  quickest  gold  dust  weigher 
in  Deadwood.  In  handling  gold  dust,  and  before 
weighing  it,  we  emptied  it  from  the  poke  or  sack  into 
a  tin  receptacle,  the  shape  of  a  fire  shovel  minus  the 
handle,  called  a  blower.  We  then  ran  through  it  a 
steel  magnet  to  learn  if  it  were  pure,  as  clean  gold 
was  worth  more  per  ounce  than  gold  carrying  iron  or 
other  substances.  If  one  wanted  to  take  from  it,  say 
fifty  cents'  worth,  he  pinched  it  between  his  thumb 
and  index  finger,  and  with  practice  it  was  astonishing 
how  close  to  the  amount  desired  could  be  pinched. 
This  was  why  I  was  called  a  fast  weigher.  It  seemed 
to  come  naturally  to  me  and  often  miners  would  wager 
money  on  my  ability  to  pinch  the  amount  designated. 
Later  on  I  purchased  a  square  piece  of  Brussels  car- 
pet upon  which  I  set  the  gold  scales.  This  carpet 
extended  out  from  the  scales  about  six  inches  on  each 
side,  and  in  going  from  the  receptacle  to  the  scales, 
by  moving  one's  finger  and  thumb  a  little,  one  would 
drop  into  this  carpet  quite  a  few  particles  of  gold  dust, 
and  it  was  very  common  to  me,  when  going  off  watch, 
to  shake  out  eight  or  ten  dollars'  worth.  This  was 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  198 

termed  "side  money,"  and  was  universally  practiced  in 
that  town. 

Our  strongest  competitors  there  were  John  Mann 
and  John  Manning.  They  owned  the  "Montana  Sa- 
loon," same  deriving  its  name  from  their  native  state. 
Another  strong  competitor  was  Jim  Pencil,  who  was 
also  from  Montana.  There  were  a  few  other  smaller 
competitors.  There  were  also  some  great  characters 
in  this  town,  who  mostly  had  nicknames.  First, 
"Johnny  the  Oyster,"  "Club  Foot  Frank,"  "Cheating 
Sheely,"  "Laughing  Sam,"  "Pink  Bedford,"  "Cliff 
Sane,"  "Frank  Connelly,"  "Bloody  Dick,"  and  many 
others  too  numerous  to  mention. 

In  the  late  spring  of  1876,  I  had  occasion  to  make 
a  trip  by  stage  from  Deadwood  to  Custer  City.  My 
companions  consisted  of  a  dance-hall  girl,  a  Jew  and 
four  other  men,  one  of  whom  everybody  called  "Te- 
legraphy," he  having  constructed  the  telegraph  line 
from  Fort  Laramie  to  Deadwood.  The  stage  left 
Deadwood  at  ten  o'clock  P.  M.  About  midnight  we 
were  dozing  while  the  stage  was  slowly  ascending  a 
hill,  the  night  not  being  very  dark. 

Presently  the  stage  came  to  a  sudden  stop,  awaken- 
ing the  occupants,  when  a  loud  voice  commanded: 
"Hands  up!"  a  shotgun  pointing  in  one  door  and  two 
six-shooters  in  the  other.  This  same  voice,  accom- 
panied by  a  great  deal  of  profanity,  ordered  us  to  get 
out  with  our  hands  up  and  stand  in  line.  This  we 
did  in  a  remarkably  short  space  of  time.  It  is  sur- 
prising how  quickly  one  can  move  and  how  long  one 
can  keep  his  hands  up.  The  dance-hall  girl  became 
hysterical  and  screeched.  They  paid  no  attention  to 
her.  My  position  was  in  the  middle  of  the  line  with 
a  road  agent  standing  at  each  end  and  one  standing 
at  the  horses'  heads,  with  his  gun  pointed  at  the 
driver.  The  fourth  one,  with  his  six-shooter  in  his 
left  hand,  performed  the  gentlemanly  act  of  collecting 


Page  199  HARDKNOCKS 

our  toll.  This  man,  having  no  disguise,  I  readily  rec- 
ognized him  as  an  old  teamster  friend.  We  had  driven 
a  team  together  for  about  two  years.  His  name  was 
Jim  Wall.  My  first  thought  was,  "will  he  rob  me?" 
I  had  on  my  person  five  hundred  dollars  in  greenbacks, 
and  at  that  particular  time  the  loss  of  it  would  have 
caused  me  considerable  embarrassment.  The  Jew 
begged  piteously,  asserting  that  he  was  dead  broke, 
and  if  they  would  not  kill  him,  when  he  arrived  in 
Cheyenne  he  would  send  them  five  hundred  dollars  to 
any  place  they  might  designate. 

Wall  laughed  at  the  Jew  and  leisurely  started  feel- 
ing around  his  waist,  and  found  a  money  belt  (which 
the  Jew  afterward  claimed  contained  fifteen  hundred 
dollars).  The  Jew  then  collapsed,  falling  on  the 
ground  as  dead.  Wall  then  went  through  his  pockets, 
relieving  them  of  what  small  change  they  contained. 
The  next  in  line  was  Telegraphy.  Wall,  knowing  him 
and  also  knowing  that  Telegraphy  was  a  hard  whisky 
drinker,  remarked:  "Telegraphy,  you  are  not  making 
this  trip  without  a  bottle  of  whisky." 

Telegraphy,  in  a  clear  voice,  replied:  "There  is  a 
bottle  under  the  cushion  of  the  rear  seat." 

Wall  ordered  one  of  his  men  to  get  it,  while  he 
himself  went  through  Telegraphy's  clothes  as  he  had 
done  with  the  Jew's.  Wall's  confederate,  handing  him 
the  bottle,  the  former  placed  it  at  Telegraph's  mouth 
and  said :  "Sample  it,  I  fear  it  may  be  doped." 

Telegraphy,  realizing  that  it  would  be  his  last 
drink  for  some  hours,  grabbed  the  bottle  with  the  in- 
tention of  taking  a  large  drink.  Snatching  the  bottle 
from  his  hand,  Wall  said:  "Hands  up,  we  will  take 
a  chance  at  this."  I  assure  the  reader  by  this  time  it 
was  becoming  very  amusing  to  me,  but  still  I  could 
not  forget  the  thought — was  I  to  lose  my  money! 
Wall  looked  at  me  for  a  moment  and  playfully  tapping 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  200 

me  under  the  chin  with  his  six-shooter,  remarked  in 
a  low  tone,  "I  see,  old  pal,  you  are  also  caught  in  the 
net!"  But  he  did  not  molest  me.  Passing  on  to  the 
last  two  men,  he  quickly  relieved  them  of  their  cash 
and  valuables.  He  did  not  rob  the  girl.  They  then 
took  the  Wells-Fargo  strong  box,  which  seemed  to  be 
very  heavy,  and  ordered  us  back  into  the  stage,  tell- 
ing the  driver  to  drive  on  and  not  look  back  for  thirty 
minutes,  bidding  us  "good  night." 

We  then  started.  It  was  some  time  before  the  Jew 
could  talk  and  the  first  thing  he  did  was  to  feel  in  his 
boot  legs,  where  was  concealed  five  hundred  dollars, 
which  Wall  had  overlooked. 

In  a  short  time  my  troubles  began.  The  four  men 
openly  charged  me  with  standing  in  with  the  road 
agents,  which  was  a  natural  supposition,  as  Wall  had 
not  robbed  me.  The  Jew  was  the  most  pronounced  in 
his  remarks  and  I  was  forced  to  stop  his  talk.  I  then 
explained  to  the  other  men  my  previous  acquaintance 
with  Wall.  Telegraphy  believed  me,  and  soon  con- 
vinced the  others.  My  destination  being  only  to  Cus- 
ter  City,  on  my  getting  out  of  the  stage  the  Jew  again 
became  furious,  saying  that  I  was  going  back  to  meet 
the  road  agents  and  get  my  share  of  the  spoils.  I 
believe  today,  if  he  is  alive,  he  is  still  of  the  same 
opinion. 

Many  times  I  have  heard  men  discussing  what  they 
would  do  in  case  of  being  held  up,  but  I  can  assure 
you,  dear  reader,  that  they  would  do  exactly  as  we 
did  by  obeying  the  commands  of  the  road  agents. 

Jim  Wall  was  captured  by  the  Pinkertons'  agents 
two  years  after  I  left  that  country  and  was  sentenced 
to  Leavenworth  Military  Prison,  having  been  tried  on 
the  charge  of  robbing  the  United  States  mail.  His 
sentence  was  twenty-two  years,  and  I  understand  he 
died  three  years  after  his  incarceration. 


Page  201  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

SIOUX  INDIANS  STEALING  THE  MONTANA  HERD- 
SCALPING  AN  INDIAN— CALAMITY  JANE— A  ROAD 
AGENT— THE  CUSTER  MASSACRE. 

THERE  were  a  great  many  saddle  horses  in 
that  country  and  feed  being  very  high,  it 
made  it  very  expensive  to  keep  them  in  town. 
Four  young  men  conceived  the  idea  of  so- 
liciting the  owners  of  these  saddle  horses  and 
agreeing  for  a  certain  sum  of  money  per  month,  to 
herd  them  on  the  open  plains  near  Crook  City.    They 
secured  about  two  hundred  of  them  and  formed  what 
was  called  the  Montana  herd.     One  Sunday  a  man 
came  into  Deadwood  and  in  a  very  excited  state  told 
us  that  a  large  band  of  Sioux  had  run  off  the  Mon- 
tana herd,  killing  the  four  herders,  the  Indians  having 
slipped  up  on  them  at  daybreak. 

This  occurrence  left  very  few  horses  in  Deadwood. 
Those  there  were  used  principally  for  teaming  pur- 
poses. However,  we  hurriedly  formed  a  party,  con- 
sisting of  Carl  Mann,  Tom  Dozier,  Seith  Bullock,  Ed 
Milligan,  Pat  Kelly,  John  Varnes,  Charley  Storms,  and 
a  man  named  Brown,  who  had  high  aspirations  to  be 
appointed  our  first  sheriff.  These  men,  together  with 
about  twenty  others,  including  myself,  started  on  the 
Indian  chase,  who  had  gone  to  the  north.  Our  horses 
were  not  very  good  saddle  horses,  as  we  had  taken 
them  out  of  the  teams  and  livery  stable.  This  placed 
us  at  a  disadvantage.  We  followed  the  Indians  for 
two  days,  not  catching  up  with  them.  Our  horses 
became  jaded  and  we  decided  to  return.  Tom  Dozier 
and  I  were  riding  side  by  side,  considerably  ahead  of 
the  balance,  when  I  saw  what  appeared  to  be  a  large 
wolf,  in  the  bottom  of  a  dry  creek.  I  called  Tom's 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  202 

attention  to  it,  remarking  that  if  it  were  not  for  the 
noise  made  by  our  guns,  it  would  be  a  fine  shot.  The 
words  were  hardly  out  of  my  mouth  when  the  sup- 
posed wolf  (but  in  reality  an  Indian,  who  had  been  on 
all  fours  digging  with  his  hands  in  the  creek  bottom 
for  water)  rose  up  and  started  for  some  tall,  dense 
plum  bushes  bordering  the  creek.  We  instantly  gave 
chase  and  surrounded  the  spot  where  we  knew  he  was 
concealed  under  a  tree,  the  roots  of  which  projected 
over  the  bank.  We  fired  a  great  many  shots  but  it 
was  impossible  to  tell  with  what  effect,  as  it  was  nec- 
essary to  crawl  through  the  plum  bushes  to  get  a  view 
of  our  quarry. 

After  some  consultation,  ambitious  Brown  sug- 
gested that  three  of  us  go  in,  he  taking  the  lead, 
Dozier  and  I  following  in  single  file.  We  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  when  the  Indian  shot,  killing  Brown.  Dozier 
and  I  returned  the  fire,  retreating  at  the  same  time  to 
the  clear.  All  was  quiet  then  and  we  could  not  tell 
whether  or  not  our  shots  had  taken  effect.  One  of 
our  party  then  volunteered  to  make  a  circuit,  and 
come  around  the  back  of  the  tree  by  crawling  on  his 
hands  and  knees.  He  had  not  been  gone  long  when 
we  heard  another  shot,  and  on  looking  over,  found 
that  he  had  been  killed  too.  Some  suggested  that  we 
simultaneously  rush  the  Indian's  hiding  place,  while 
others  objected;  and,  as  it  was  now  getting  dark,  we 
decided  to  surround  the  spot,  wait  for  morning  arid 
then  fire  the  plum  bushes  and  tall  prairie  grass,  and 
burn  him  out.  Morning  came.  One  of  the  party 
crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees  to  where  Brown's 
body  lay,  found  that  he  had  been  scalped.  Then  go- 
ing to  the  other  body,  found  that  he,  too,  had  been 
scalped  and  that  the  Indian  had  made  his  escape  dur- 
ing the  night.  How  that  wily  Indian  could  have  so 
easily  outwitted  us,  was  a  mystery  to  all.  We  secured 


Page  203  HARD   KNOCKS 

the  two  bodies  and  returned  to  Deadwood,  a  tired  and 
disgusted  lot. 

In  the  latter  part  of  August  a  report  was  circu- 
lated that  a  great  strike  had  been  made  at  the  base  of 
what  was  called  Sun  Dance  Mountain,  situated  about  a 
hundred  miles  northwest  of  Deadwood.  Myself  and 
four  others  taking  our  saddle  horses  and  a  pack  mule, 
started  on  the  stampede.  Those  with  me  were  Pat 
Kelly,  Ed  Milligan,  Tom  Dozier  and  Johnnie  Varnes. 
We  made  Kelly  captain.  When  going  on  dangerous 
trips  we  always  selected  some  one  of  the  party  to  act 
as  captain,  whose  orders  were  obeyed  to  the  letter. 
Kelly  was  a  fighting  Irishman  and  was  not  afraid  of 
God,  man  or  devil.  The  first  night  out  an  Indian 
could  have  killed  us  all  with  a  butcher  knife,  as,  having 
imbibed  pretty  freely  during  the  day,  we  were  in 
such  condition  that  we  slept  like  logs  all  night. 

"Three  days  after  we  left  Deadwood,  Milligan  and 
myself  were  riding  in  advance  about  one-half  mile. 
In  looking  down  on  the  ground,  I  saw  fresh  pony 
tracks.  We  were  about  to  ascend  a  hill  at  the  time. 
I  said,  "Ed,  those  ponies  have  not  passed  here  an 
hour.  I  can  tell  by  the  tracks,  and  if  you  will  hold 
my  horse,  I  will  crawl  up  to  the  top  of  this  ridge  or 
hill  and  see  what  I  can  discover." 

He  did  so.  I  looked  over  and  there  were  about 
twenty-five  Indians  in  the  act  of  dismounting.  They 
had  with  them  some  fifty  head  of  good  looking  horses. 
I  presumed  they  had  stolen  them.  We  started  back 
and  met  the  balance  of  the  boys  and  reported  to  them 
what  I  had  seen.  Kelly,  selecting  a  spot  not  far  dis- 
tant, where  we  went  into  camp;  unpacked  our  mule, 
which  had  been  packed  with  the  outfit,  and  with  our 
shovels  dug  a  hole  large  enough  to  hold  four  of  us, 
and  a  smaller  one  big  enough  for  one  man,  he  to  hold 
the  horses  by  their  lariats,  for  we  knew  that  we  were 
to  ha¥8  a  fight  on  our  hands. 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  204 

We  did  not  get  ready  any  too  soon,  for  they  came 
on  the  run,  yelling  as  only  Indians  can  yell.  "Now," 
said  Kelly,  "don't  fire  a  shot  until  I  tell  you." 

We  lay  in  our  little  fort  with  dirt  thrown  up  as 
breastworks.  The  Indians  rode  to  within  a  hundred 
or  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards  of  us,  then  whirled  and 
fired;  Kelly  still  warning  us  not  to  shoot  until  or- 
dered. A  great  trick  of  the  Sioux  is  to  get  the  whites 
to  shoot  their  ammunition  away  and  then  he  has  them 
at  his  mercy.  We  had  each  forty  rounds  of  ammuni- 
tion and  the  only  thing  about  our  position  was  that 
we  had  no  water.  k  Otherwise,  we  had  no  fear  of 
standing  them  off.  After  shooting  at  us  they  would 
again  go  back  some  distance  and  come  again  as  be- 
fore. :  They  made  a  good  many  such  charges.  Fin- 
ally two  of  their  party,  one  a  young  fellow  not  more 
than  twelve  years  old,  I  should  judge,  began  to  come 
a  little  nearer,  shooting  pretty  close  to  us.  The  little 
fellow  did  not  have  a  gun,  but  was  using  his  bow  and 
arrows.  I  said:  "Kelly,  I  have  always  wanted  to  kill 
an  Indian,  and  I  wish  you  would  let  me  have  a  shot 
at  one  of  those  fellows." 

Kelly  replied:  "You  take  the  big  fellow  and  I 
will  take  the  little  one,  if  they  come  again." 

I  was  delighted.  They  came  again  still  closer  than 
before.  Kelly  gave  the  word  and  we  both  fired,  I 
hitting  my  man  just  under  the  ear  and  Kelly  hitting 
his  in  the  body.  My  man  fell  to  the  ground  as  dead 
as  an  oyster.  Kelly's  boy  toppled  over,  but  caught 
his  pony's  mane,  holding  himself  on  and  disappeared 
behind  a  small  hill,  the  others  following.  They  seemed 
to  have  had  enough  of  it. 

We  waited  fully  two  hours  and  did  not  see  any 
more  of  them.  I  then  said  to  Kelly:  "Kelly,  I  ran 
away  from  home  when  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age 
with  the  intention  of  being  a  great  Indian  killer,  and 


Page  205  HARD   KNOCKS 

in  all  these  years  this  is  my  first  Indian,  and  I  would 
like  very  much  to  take  his  scalp.  Kelly  agreed  to  my 
doing  so. 

We  then  all  saddled  up,  riding  up  to  the  dead  In- 
dian, Kelly  and  I  dismounting;  I  holding  the  scalp 
lock  while  Kelly  cut  it  off.  We  did  not  make  as  fine 
a  job  of  it  as  an  Indian  would  have  done,  but  I  was 
satisfied.  I  had  a  scalp.  Kelly  took  his  war  bonnet, 
Milligan  his  breech-clout,  Varnes  his  moccasins  and 
Dozier  his  gun.  We  then  started  for  Deadwood.  We 
had  had  enough  of  the  stampeding  business  to  last  a 
while.  We  shared  in  the  venture  and  trophies  of  war, 
but  arrived  in  Deadwood  with  no  gold. 

I  will  now  give  you  the  balance  of  the  history  of 
that  great  female  character,  Calamity  Jane. 

Jane  and  I  had  not  met  since  the  return  of  the 
Jenny  expedition  to  Fort  Laramie,  until  one  night 
when  I  was  sitting  in  Jim  Pencil's  saloon  playing  faro 
bank  someone  tapped  me  on  the  shoulder.  Looking 
around,  I  saw  whom  I  supposed  to  be  a  young  man 
dressed  in  buckskin,  with  a  broad  brimmed  hat  and 
two  six-shooters.  Turning  again  to  the  table  I  re- 
sumed my  playing,  when  I  was  touched  on  the  shoul- 
der again.  I  then  turned  again  and  asked,  "What  do 
you  want?" 

The  reply  was,  "Hello,  Young,  you  know  d —  well 
you  tried  to  drown  me  in  Spring  Creek." 

It  was  Calamity  Jane.  She  was  alluding  to  the 
Jenny  expedition  episode,  when  I  had  upset  the  wagon 
with  her  in  it.  Her  language  was  very  profane  and 
her  love  for  whisky  equalled  that  of  any  hard  drinker. 
I  asked  her  how  she  was  fixed  financially.  She  an- 
swered, "Dead  broke."  I  gave  her  a  five-dollar  green- 
back, when  she  immediately  proceeded  to  celebrate, 
and  in  a  short  time  she  was  in  a  wild  state  of  intoxica- 
tion. She  was  then  dubbed  a  good  fellow  and  admitted 
as  a  member  of  the  pioneer  characters  of  Deadwood. 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  206 

Her  habits  were  thoroughly  masculine.  She  danced  with 
the  dance-halls  girls,  as  the  balance  of  us  did,  asso- 
ciated with  the  men  and  showed  no  female  traits 
whatever. 

Swarringer,  who  kept  the  dance  hall,  was  sorely 
in  need  of  some  new  girls  and  employed  Calamity  to 
white  slave  for  him.  Fitting  her  out  with  a  team, 
wagon  and  cooking  utensils,  he  sent  her  to  Nebraska 
to  get  a  new  supply  of  girls.  At  this  business  she  was 
a  huge  success,  the  result  of  her  first  trip  being  ten 
girls.  She  had  captivated  them  with  exaggerated 
stories  of  the  immense  wealth  in  the  Black  Hills  and 
the  large  amount  of  money  to  be  made.  She  turned 
them  over  to  Swarringer,  retaining  charge  of  them 
herself,  educating  and  instructing  them,  and  was  in 
reality  their  friend  as  far  as  imposition  was  concerned. 
On  one  of  her  white  slave  trips  she  was  stopped  by 
the  noted  road  agent,  Jim  Wall,  and  his  confederates. 
She  became  enamored  with  one  of  the  gang  named 
Blackburn,  who  prevailed  upon  her  to  go  with  them. 
On  her  return  to  Deadwood  she  turned  the  team  over 
to  Swarringer  and  disappeared.  A  year  later  three  of 
the  gang  were  captured,  and  with  them  Calamity  Jane. 
They  were  taken  to  Laramie  City  for  trial,  in  the 
meantime  being  confined  in  a  log  jail,  from  which  they 
made  an  attempt  to  escape  by  digging  their  way  out 
under  the  jail,  but  were  quickly  recaptured  while  yet 
in  the  town.  Her  companions  received  long  sentences, 
but  for  some  unexplained  reason,  Calamity  was  not 
prosecuted.  She  lived  for  many  years  in  various  towns 
and  mining  camps  in  that  country,  following  various 
occupations.  She  finally  drifted  back  to  Deadwood, 
entirely  broken  in  body  and  spirits,  and  after  a  linger- 
ing illness  of  two  years,  during  which  all  of  her  ex- 
penses were  defrayed  by  the  big-hearted  town  people, 
she  passed  away  on  August  2,  1906.  On  the  same 
day  and  month,  and  the  same  hour,  Wild  Bill  was 


Page  207  HARD   KNOCKS 

assassinated  thirty  years  before.  Her  dying  request 
was  that  she  be  buried  by  the  side  of  Wild  Bill,  which 
was  granted.  And  she  now  reposes  by  the  side  of  him 
whom  she  had  for  years  greatly  admired.  May  the 
Supreme  Ruler  of  the  Universe  forgive  their  faults, 
for  they  had  many  virtues. 

I  will  now  give  the  reader  a  little  inside  history  of 
the  massacre  of  that  great  man,  General  Custer,  and 
his  regiment. 

The  news  of  this  massacre  was  brought  into  Dead- 
wood  by  courier,  where  I  happened  to  be  at  the  time. 
From  there  it  was  telegraphed  all  over  the  world. 
Much  has  been  written  regarding  this  massacre,  but 
it  is  all  surmise,  as  no  one  escaped  except  one  Crow 
Indian  scout,  and  his  account  of  the  massacre  was  so 
muddled  as  to  prove  of  no  importance  whatever;  ad- 
mitting himself  that  he  was  in  the  rocks  when  the 
massacre  occurred  and  that  he  did  not  see  it  at  all. 
The  Sioux  who  did  take  part  in  it,  on  being  ques- 
tioned, gave  very  conflicting  accounts  of  it,  and  be- 
ing such  infernal  liars,  drew  on  their  imagination  to 
a  large  extent,  so  that  no  satisfaction  was  to  be  had 
from  them. 

Personally,  I  was  very  sorry  to  learn  of  the  trouble 
between  General  Custer  and  the  powers  at  Washing- 
ton, for  the  General  was  a  very  fine  soldier,  both  dur- 
ing the  Civil  and  Indian  wars,  and  I  felt  that  in  recog- 
nition of  his  past  services,  his  faults  should  have  been 
overlooked  to  a  large  extent;  but  such  appears  not 
to  have  been  the  case. 

In  the  late  sixties  there  was  a  scandal  .in  the  fron- 
tier post  known  as  the  Belknap  whisky  case.  Custer 
was  among  the  officers  summoned  to  Washington  to 
give  testimony  regarding  the  scandal,  and  in  a  frank, 
straightforward  manner,  told  the  truth.  This  met 
with  disfavor  among  certain  high  officials.  Later  on 
Fred  Grant  graduated  from  West  Point,  and,  owing 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  208 

to  the  prominence  of  his  father,  was  promoted  from 
a  second  lieutenant  to  a  lieutenant-colonel,  being  ap- 
pointed on  General  Sheridan's  staff.  Custer  expressed 
himself  very  freely  on  this  rapid  promotion,  which 
placed  him  doubly  wrong  in  the  minds  of  the  powers 
at  Washington.  Then  it  was  decided  that  Custer  must 
be  humiliated. 

The  opportunity  presented  itself  to  carry  out  Gen- 
eral Ouster's  humiliation  during  the  Sioux  war  in 
1876.  General  Miles  was  in  command,  and  on  two 
different  occasions,  Custer  v  disobeyed  orders.  For 
these  offenses  he  was  to  be  court-martialed,  and  none 
knew  this  better  than  Custer  himself;  but  he,  being 
far  in  advance  of  the  main  command,  it  was  difficult 
to  get  word  to  him  to  report  at  headquarters.  Before 
he  could  be  reached,  his  Crow  Indian  scouts  reported 
a  large  band  of  Sioux  on  the  Little  Rose  Bud  River. 
Here  Custer  thought  he  saw  his  opportunity  to  win  a 
big  battle,  one  that  would  make  him  so  popular  and 
his  standing  such,  as  to  recall  the  court  martialling. 
He  hurriedly  consulted  General  Reno  and  formed  a 
plan  of  attack.  Reno  with  his  command  was  to  at- 
tack from  the  south,  and  Custer  from  the  north,  sim- 
ultaneously. Shortly  after  separating,  a  large  body 
of  Sioux  intercepted  Reno,  who,  instead  of  showing 
fight,  went  into  camp;  but  Custer,  hearing  the  shoot- 
ing, hurried  on  to  fulfill  his  part,  not  knowing  that 
Reno  had  gone  into  camp.  After  the  Indians  had 
stopped  Reno,  they  immediately  joined  the  main  band. 
Custer  made  the  charge,  and  not  getting  the  assis- 
tance he  expected  from  Reno,  was  annihilated  with  his 
brave  followers,  the  seventh  cavalry.  Had  Reno  not 
shown  the  white  feather  but  fought  his  way  through, 
Custer  and  many  of  his  command  might  have  been 
alive  today.  Reno,  having  great  influence  at  Wash- 
ington, was  not  court-martialled  for  his  cowardice,  but 
was  requested  to  resign,  which  he  did. 


Page  209  HARDKNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE  FIRST  SERMON  IN  DEADWOOD— FATE  OF  THE 
PREACHER— HE  LOST  BOTH  HAIR  AND  GOLD  DUST 
—WILD  AND  WOOLLY  TIMES— THE  INDIAN'S  HEAD 
ON  THE  TOWN  FLAGSTAFF— THE  STORMS-VARNES 
DUEL— DEATH  OF  WILD  BILL. 

ONE  Sunday  there  came  walking  into  Dead- 
wood  an  old  man  wearing  a  black  slouched 
hat,  a  long,  black  coat,  and  holding  in  one 
hand  a  Bible.    The  old  fellow  was  a  preacher, 
of  what  denomination,  I  cannot  state.     No 
one  there  seemed  to  know  where  he  came  from.    It 
being  the  Lord's  Day,  many  miners  had  come  into 
town  to  spend  their  gold  dust.    The  preacher,  think- 
ing he  might  save  a  few  souls,  stopped  in  front  of 
Jim  Pencil's  saloon,  and  standing  on  an  empty  box, 
began  to  preach.    A  large  crowd  gathered  around  the 
old  fellow,  listening  to  him  very  reverently.    In  the 
crowd  were  four  or  five  dance-hall  girls.    This  being 
the  first  preaching  we  had  heard,  it  interested  us  very 
much.    The  old  fellow  held  his  hat  in  his  left  hand 
and  his  Bible  in  his  right.    He  had  not  been  preaching 
very  long,  when  Calamity  Jane,  dressed  in  her  buck- 
skin attire  and  in  an  intoxicated  condition,  snatched 
his  old  hat  from  his  hand,  and  turning  to  the  crowd, 
addressed  them  thus: 

"You  sinners,  dig  down  in  your  pokes,  now;  this 
old  fellow  looks  as  though  he  were  broke  and  I  want 
to  collect  about  two  hundred  dollars  for  him.  So  lim- 
ber up,  boys." 

She  then  started  through  the  crowd  and  collected 
two  hundred  and  thirty-five  dollars  in  gold  dust. 

While  collecting,  the  old  man  was  still  preaching. 
Calamity  attempted  to  interrupt  him  by  presenting 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  210 

him  with  his  hat  and  gold  dust.  He  motioned  her 
aside.  This  offended  her,  and  looking  at  him  for  a 
moment,  she  said: 

"You  d —  old  fool,  take  the  money  first  and  then 
proceed  with  your  preaching." 

I  believe  this  shortened  his  sermon  some,  for  he 
soon  announced  that  he  was  going  down  to  Crook  City 
at  the  foothills,  ten  miles  below  Deadwood.  Jack 
McAller,  or  Black  Jack,  told  him  that  there  were  two 
routes  to  get  there,  one  down  the  canyon  and  one  by 
ascending  the  hill,  then  down  the  open  plain;  also 
told  him  that  the  Indians  were  bad  and  advised  him 
to  take  the  canyon  route.  The  old  man  thanked  him, 
and  looking  heavenward,  said:  "I  trust  in  God,  I 
know  He  will  protect  me." 

Black  Jack  replied,  "God  is  all  right,  but  take  my 
advice,  parson,"  and  offered  a  six-shooter  to  the  old 
fellow,  which  the  latter  refused  to  touch.  The  parson 
then  informed  us  he  was  going  the  hill  route.  Tying 
the  gold  dust  in  an  old  bandana  handkerchief,  he 
started  up  the  hillside.  When  near  the  top,  we  saw 
him  stop,  and  turning  around  facing  us,  he  extended 
both  hands  in  the  air  as  though  he  were  blessing  us, 
then  disappeared  over  the  hill. 

In  about  three  hours  two  men  arrived  in  town 
very  much  excited,  stating  that  they  had  found  the 
body  of  an  old  man  killed  and  scalped,  with  a  gun  shot 
in  his  back  and  an  arrow  piercing  his  neck.  We  knew 
at  once  it  was  the  parson.  Going  out  there,  we  found 
the  body  minus  the  gold  dust.  We  brought  him  in,  and 
buried  him  on  a  flat  in  the  rear  of  the  Montana  sa- 
loon. Later  we  learned  that  he  was  the  Reverned 
Hiram  Weston  Smith.  He  was  the  first  man  to  plant 
the  seed  of  Christianity  in  the  Black  Hills.  I  under- 
stand that  there  are  now  five  churches  in  Deadwood. 
The  citizens  of  Deadwood  eight  years  later  moved  the 


Page211  HARD   KNOCKS 

body  to  a  new  cemetery  and  erected  a  monument  to 
his  memory,  with  the  inscription:  "Here  lines  the 
Reverend  Hiram  Weston  Smith,  killed  by  Indians, 
August  22,  1876,— the  Pioneer  Preacher  of  the  Black 
Hills." 

The  Sioux  Indians  were  very  troublesome  to  the 
residents  of  Deadwood.  Coming  from  the  plains,  they 
would  secret  themselves  behind  rocks  on  the  ridge  top 
and  shoot  into  town.  The  citizens  finally  offered  a 
reward  of  five  hundred  dollars  for  the  first  Indian 
scalp  brought  into  Deadwood.  Two  Mexicans,  wend- 
ing their  way  by  the  hill  route  to  Deadwood,  having 
started  from  Crook  City,  killed  an  Indian,  who  was 
about  twenty-five  years  of  age,  I  should  judge.  In- 
stead of  scalping  him,  they  cut  his  head  off,  carrying 
it  by  the  scalp  lock  and  walked  into  town.  A  great 
crowd  followed  them  into  the  saloon  where  I  worked. 

I  had  my  back  to  the  entrance  of  the  saloon,  and 
upon  hearing  the  commotion  I  suddenly  turned  around, 
and  on  the  bar  sat  the  Indian  head,  the  Mexican  hold- 
ing it  there  with  his  hands.  The  face  was  painted, 
the  upper  side  with  little  black  dots,  and  the 
lower  portion  red.  In  his  ears  he  wore  ear  rings,  and 
he  had  been  quite  hansome  for  an  Indian.  The  Mexi- 
can asfied  me  where  he  was  to  receive  the  reward. 
Just  then  Black  Jack  stepped  up,  telling  him  that  he 
would  pay  the  money,  which  he  did,  suggesting  that 
we  have  a  celebration,  and  to  which  the  crowd  agreed. 

We  then  started  on  a  visit  to  all  the  saloons.  Jack 
and  Calamity  Jane  led  the  way,  Jack  carrying  the 
head  and  Calamity  doing  the  yelling,  haranguing  the 
crowd.  Our  tour  included  all  the  dance  halls  and 
business  houses,  and  we  kept  this  performance  up  all 
night.  All  having  imbibed  freely,  when  morning  came 
Calamity  suggested  that  we  hoist  the  head  up  on  the 
flagstaff,  which  had  previously  been  erected.  We 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  212 

started  our  procession  to  the  upper  end  of  town,  and 
there  never  had  been  and  never  will  be  such  a  scene 
enacted  on  earth  again.  When  we  arrived  at  the  des- 
ignated spot,  they  attached  the  flag  halyard  to  the 
scalp  lock  and  with  a  whoop,  Calamity  and  Jack 
hoisted  it  up.  We  then  formed  a  great  circle  around 
the  flagstaff  and  no  body  of  Sioux  Indians  ever  equaled 
that  war  dance.  This  lasted  for  a  solid  hour,  when 
they  lowered  it  down  and  buried  it.  This  ended  the 
grand  celebration  of  the  Indian's  head. 

The  following  morning  a  man  notified  us  that  he 
had  found  the  bodies  of  the  two  Mexicans  who  had 
killed  and  brought  this  Indian  head  into  town.  They 
were  lying  close  together,  each  with  a  six-shooter  in 
his  right  hand,  with  an  empty  chamber  in  each  gun. 
We  concluded  that  they  had  quarreled  over  the  distri- 
bution of  the  five  hundred  dollars  and  had  shot  at 
one  another  about  the  same  time,  killing  each  other. 
We  buried  them  alongside  the  Indian  head.  This  was 
a  remarkable  coincident. 

Two  gamblers  named  Charley  Storms  and  Johnnie 
Varnes,  while  playing  cards,  had  a  misunderstanding. 
Both  being  brave  men,  they  agreed  to  go  out  on  the 
street  and  fight  a  duel  with  six-shooters.  Varnes  car- 
ried the  first  double-acting  gun  I  ever  saw,  called  a 
Whistler.  It  was  of  English  make.  It  was  quite  short 
and  shot  a  very  large  calibre  ball.  Storms  carried  a 
Colts  forty-five. 

Standing  in  line,  Varnes'  position  being  near  the 
running  gear  of  a  wagon,  rested  this  gun  on  the  top 
of  the  wagon  wheel,  shooting  at  Storms  very  rapidly, 
Storms  shooting  but  two  shots  at  Varnes,  both  strik- 
ing the  wagon  tire  below  Varnes'  head,  bounding  over 
it.  This  saved  Varnes.  One  of  Varnes'  shots  struck 
a  German  in  the  hip.  The  German  was  standing  about 
twenty  steps  out  of  line,  but  Varnes'  gun  being  so 


Page  213  HARD   KNOCKS 

short  and  of  such  heavy  calibre,  shot  anywhere  rather 
than  where  he  pointed  it.  When  Varnes'  gun  was 
emptied  he  threw  up  his  hands,  telling  Storms  so. 

The  latter,  replied,  "Go  get  a  better  gun.  You  can- 
not hit  a  barn  door  with  that  one." 

In  the  meantime  friends  interf erred,  stopping  the 
duel,  and  they  afterward  became  great  friends.  Poor 
Storms  was  killed  years  later  in  Tombstone,  Arizona, 
by  Luke  Short,  a  faro  dealer.  Varnes  died  in  Den- 
ver, Colorado,  an  opium  fiend,  and  thus  ended  two 
brave  men. 

About  the  middle  of  June  there  arrived  in  Dead- 
wood  my  old  friend,  "Wild  Bill."  Accompanying  him 
was  Charley  Utter,  commonly  known  as  Colorado 
Charley.  They  were  mounted  and  a  more  picturesque 
sight  could  not  be  imagined  than  Wild  Bill  on  horse- 
back. This  character  had  never  been  north  of  Chey- 
enne before  this,  for  he  originated  in  the  south,  as 
previously  stated.  Many  in  Deadwood  knew  him,  hav- 
ing met  him  before ;  others  knew  him  only  by  reputa- 
tionfi  particularly  those  who  came  from  Montana. 

Among  these  Montana  people  were  a  good  many 
men  of  note.  I  mean  by  that,  gun  men,  and  the  ar- 
rival of  this  character  in  town  caused  quite  a  com- 
motion. They  rode  up  to  the  saloon  where  I  was 
working,  both  of  them  having  known  Carl  Mann  be- 
fore ;  he  being  a  great  friend  of  Bills',  they  naturally 
called  on  him  first.  They  dismounted  and  walked  into 
the  saloon,  great  crowds  following  them  until  the 
room  was  packed.  Mann  cordially  received  them,  ask- 
ing them  to  make  this  saloon  their  headquarters, 
which  they  agreed  to  do.  This  meant  money  to  Mann, 
as  Bill  would  be  a  great  drawing  card. 

After  the  excitement  of  Bill's  arrival  had  sub- 
Sided  a  little,  Bill  looked  at  me  a  few  moments,  then 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  214 

said:  "Kid,  here* you  are  again,  like  the  bad  penny, 
but  I  am  awfully  glad  to  see  you."  And  turning  to 
Carl  Mann,  remarked:  "I  first  met  this  kid  in  Hayes 
City,  Kansas,  and  wherever  I  go,  he  seems  to  precede 
me  or  to  follow  me,  for  I  have  met  him  in  Abeline,  Ells- 
worth, Cheyenne,  and  now  again  here;  but  he  is  a 
good  boy  and  you  can  trust  him.  Take  my  word  for 
that." 

Bill's  occupation  at  this  time  was  that  of  a  gam- 
bler. Since  I  had  last  seen  him,  he  seemed  to  have 
changed  greatly  and  tried  very  hard  to  avoid  notori- 
ety, conducting  himself  in  a  very  gentlemanly  man- 
ner, but  unfortunately  his  past  reputation  was  still  a 
matter  of  public  comment.  Consequently,  he  was  sub- 
ected  to  a  great  deal  of  criticism,  pro  and  con.  At 
this  time  there  were  many  gun  fighters  in  Deadwood, 
the  majority  of  which  hailed  from  Montana.  Knowing 
Bill  only  by  reputation,  they  misjudged  him  to  a 
marked  degree.  To  have  the  reader  more  clearly  un- 
derstand their  relative  positions  to  each  other,  I  will 
say  that  Bill  had  attained  much  the  same  reputation 
as  a  prize  fighter  who  had  successfully  sent  all  of  his 
opponents  down  to  defeat  and  become  the  acknowl- 
edged champion.  Professional  gun  fighters  in  those 
days  aspired  to  kill  any  one  of  their  number  who  had 
the  record  of  being  their  superior,  and  by  thus  doing, 
claimed  the  so-called  championship. 

One  night  in  June  a  party  of  six  Montana  men 
congregated  in  the  Montana  saloon  and  engaged  in  a 
general  spirited  talk  of  criticism,  the  target  of  their 
remarks  being  Bill.  A  friend  of  his  happened  to  be 
in  the  saloon  and  lost  no  time  in  going  to  the  Sixty- 
six  saloon  where  he  found  Bill,  and  told  him  what  he 
had  heard.  In  supreme  disgust,  Bill  went  immediately 
to  the  Montana  saloon  and  walking  up  to  the  crowd, 
remarked; 


Page  215  HARD   KNOCKS 

"I  understand  that  you  cheap,  would-be  gun  fight- 
ers from  Montana  have  been  making  remarks  about 
me,  and  I  want  you  all  to  understand  that  unless  they 
are  stopped  there  will  shortly  be  a  number  of  cheap 
funerals  in  Deadwood.  I  have  come  to  this  town  not 
to  court  notoriety  or  villianous  talk,  but  to  live  in 
peace,  and  do  not  propose  to  stand  for  your  insults." 

Having  thus  declared  himself,  Bill  ordered  the  en- 
tire six  to  line  up  against  the  wall  and  deliver  up  their 
guns,  which  they  quickly  did  in  a  very  sheepish  man- 
ner. Bill  had  accomplished  his  purpose  without  the 
flash  of  a  gun  on  his  part.  Backing  out  of  the  saloon, 
he  leisurely  walked  down  the  street  to  the  Sixty-six 
saloon  and  resumed  his  seat  at  the  card  table.  This 
act,  of  course,  became  the  talk  of  the  town. 

Seeing  much  of  Bill  every  day  and  being  a  very 
close  observer,  I  became  familiar  with  many  of  his 
characteristics,  some  of  which  are  worthy  of  special 
mention. 

In  drinking  at  a  bar,  Bill  invariably  poured  out 
the  whisky  with  his  left  hand,  his  right  being  free 
for  possible  emergency.  He  was  careful  to  face  all 
with  whom  he  was  drinking,  and  under  no  circum- 
stances would  he  chance  any  one  being  behind  him. 
In  a  card  game  he  always  sat  with  his  back  to  the 
wall.  I  have  often  thought  of  the  constant  uneasiness 
that  he  must  have  felt  at  all  times. 

There  was  also  the  comic  side  to  Bill's  nature, 
which  asserted  itself  in  his  jovial  moods,  and  his 
stories  at  such  times  made  up  by  himself,  for  he  was 
a  great  story  teller,  were  highly  entertaining.  I  will 
narrate  two  of  them  as  related  to  us.  On  this  oc- 
casion Bill  had  been  asked  for  a  story  by  a  crowd  who 
knew  him  by  reputation  only  and  appreciated  the 
fact  that  his  stories  would  be  a  rare  treat.  Bill  re- 
sponded as  follows: 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  216 

"Some  years  ago  in  the  Indian  territory  I  was 
scouting  for  General  Custer,  and  getting  up  into  south- 
western Kansas,  which  was  a  new  country  to  me  at 
that  time,  I  was  riding  quite  a  distance  ahead  of  the 
command,  when  I  saw  an  opening  about  two  feet  wide 
which  seemed  to  run  into  a  bluff.  I  thought  I  would 
explore  this.  On  closer  examination  I  found  this  pas- 
sageway about  ten  feet  long.  Passing  through  it  I 
discovered  that  it  led  to  a  large,  open  space  of  con- 
siderable area  and  was  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  a 
wall.  I  remarked  to  myself,  what  a  great  protection 
from  Indians  this  would  be  if  one  were  hard  pressed, — 
the  entrance  being  so  narrow,  one  could  secrete  him- 
self on  the  inside  and  kill  any  number  of  them,  as 
they  could  only  enter  one  at  a  time.  I  was  armed  with 
a  six-shooter  and  also  a  large  knife.  The  thought  had 
hardly  passed  through  my  brain,  when  in  looking  at 
the  entrance  I  saw  an  Indian  approaching.  Knowing 
he  was  hostile,  I  shot  him.  Another  came;  I  also 
shot  him.  They  kept  coming  one  by  one  until  I  had 
discharged  the  six  shots  that  my  gun  contained.  In 
those  days  we  used  the  powder  and  ball  six-shooters, 
with  caps  on  the  nipples.  Not  having  any  extra  am- 
munition with  me,  I  was  unable  to  reload.  More  In- 
dians kept  coming.  I  then  drew  my  knife  from  my 
belt  and  backed  up  against  the  wall  at  the  farther 
end,  while  in  the  meantime  the  open  space  became 
crowded  with  Indians." 

Here,  Bill  stopped  telling  the  story.  One  of  the 
many  listeners,  however,  asked  him  what  he  did  then. 
Bill  hesitated  a  moment,  then  replied: 

"What  could  I  do?  There  were  many  of  them, 
well  armed,  and  I  had  only  my  knife." 

"Well,  then,"  questioned  his  interrogator,  "what 
did  they  do?" 

Bill  gave  a  long  sigh,  saying:  "By  God,  they 
killed  me,  boys!" 


Page  217  HARD   KNOCKS 

For  a  few  moments  they  did  not  seem  to  see  the 
joke,  but  soon  began  laughing.  One  of  them  asked 
the  crowd  up  to  the  bar  to  drink,  Bill  whispering  to 
me: 

"Kid,  that's  one  time  I  had  to  die." 

I  replied,  "Why  didn't  you  unfold  your  wings  and 
fly?" 

He  said  the  next  time  he  told  that  story  he  would 
escape  in  that  manner. 

At  another  time  Bill  told  the  following  story:  He 
was  riding  along  one  day  in  the  mountains  in  Colorado 
and  was  about  to  cross  an  open  space,  when  he  heard 
a  loud  noise  behind  him.  Looking  back,  he  saw  a 
great  snake  about  fifty  feet  long,  with  a  head  re- 
sembling a  man's — having  the  nose,  mouth  and  chin 
of  a  man,  also  a  pair  of  legs,  which  looked  very  much 
like  a  man's  arms;  its  breast  and  stomach  both  re- 
sembled those  of  a  man  also.  It  was  a  vicious  looking 
reptile.  His  horse  scenting  it,  became  frightened  and 
ran  away  with  him.  The  faster  the  horse  ran,  the 
closer  this  reptile  approached,  convincing  Bill  that  it 
would  soon  catch  up  with  him.  Turning  in  his  saddle, 
he  shot  the  reptile  dead.  Quieting  his  horse,  he  dis- 
mounted and  with  his  gun  in  hand  ready  for  immediate 
use,  he  walked  back  to  examine  the  reptile,  and  found 
that  it  really  had  a  stomach  like  a  human  being.  He 
could  not  carry  it  with  him  to  camp,  so  cut  the  head 
off;  then  opening  the  stomach,  found  in  there  eight 
hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars  worth  of  gold  dust. 
This  was  a  gold  eating  snake.  Now  he  was  in  a 
quandry,  not  daring  to  take  the  head  back  with  him 
as  he  might  be  compelled  to  give  up  the  gold,  so  he 
decided  to  cover  it  up  with  earth  at  a  nearby  bluff. 
Going  to  the  nearest  town,  he  displayed  this  gold  dust, 
not  telling  where  he  had  procured  it,  but  the  people 
then  began  prospecting  for  gold  in  Colorado  and  dis- 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  218 

covered  it  in  paying  quantities.  And  this  gold  eating 
snake  should  have  the  credit  for  the  discovery.  "This 
is  the  first  time  I  have  ever  told  the  secret,"  added  Bill. 

I  thought  the  listeners  would  explode  with 
laughter,  which  pleased  Bill  very  much. 

Early  one  morning  two  days  before  Bill's  assass- 
ination, he  walked  into  the  Sixty-six  saloon.  We  were 
alone  at  the  time  and  I  noticed  he  looked  very  dejected. 
I  remarked,  "Bill,  you  are  not  looking  very  well  this 
morning." 

"No,"  he  replied.  "I  have  a  feeling  that  something 
is  going  to  happen  to  me." 

I  remarked,  "Bill,  you  are  drinking  too  much." 

"No,"  he  answered,  "that  has  nothing  to  do  with 
it.  I  have  had  this  feeling  for  two  weeks,  but  know 
I  will  never  be  killed  by  any  one  in  front  of  me  and  if  it 
does  come,  it  will  be  from  the  back.  Now,  I  want  you 
to  do  something  for  me.  Step  out  here  and  walk 
backward  until  I  tell  you  to  stop."  I  did  so  until  he 
told  me  to  halt.  This  being  a  very  peculiar  request  on 
his  part,  I  asked  him  the  reason  for  it.  He  told  me 
that  his  eye  sight  was  failing  him,  and  he  wanted  to 
satisfy  himself  as  to  the  distance  that  he  could  dis- 
tinguish a  man.  He  then  said:  "Two  steps  before  you 
stopped,  I  could  plainly  recognize  you,  after  which  I 
could  see  nothing  but  a*  blur.  Don't  mention  this 
circumstance  to  any  one  as  I  do  not  care  to  have  it 
known." 

To  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  rapidity  and 
accuracy  with  which  Bill  could  shoot — first  bear  in 
mind  that  six  shooters  in  his  time  were  not  cartridge 
guns  nor  were  they  double  action.  One  had  to  load  them 
with  powder  and  ball  and  place  caps  on  the  nipples 
attached  to  the  cylinders,  and  had  to  cock  the  hammer 
each  time  he  shot. 


Page  219  HARDKNOCKS 

In  1868  he  was  riding  from  Hays  City  to  Fort 
Hays,  in  company  with  General  Custer.  In  passing  a 
telegraph  pole  Bill  remarked  to  Custer,  "General,  would 
you  believe  that  I  could  ride  past  one  of  these  poles 
on  the  run  and  shoot  six  shots  into  it  with  my  six 
shooter  and  that  you  could  cover  the  space  where  I 
hit  it  with  the  palm  of  your  hand?" 

"No,"  Custer  replied,  "no  man  could  accomplish 
such  a  feat."  Bill  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  when 
opposite  a  pole,  shot  six  shots  into  it,  and  sure  enough 
on  examination,  Custer  found  he  had  hit  it  six  times, 
and  that  he  could  cover  the  spot  with  his  hand.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  Fort,  Custer  had  a  tin  sign  made, 
verifying  the  fact,  and  had  the  sign  nailed  to  the  pole. 
If  the  reader  should  at  any  time  visit  Hays,  Kansas, 
he  will  find  the  pole  still  there,  the  citizens  of  Hays 
having  had  it  cemented  in  the  ground.  They  keep  it 
in  preservation  as  an  old  time  relic  of  this  wonderful 
character. 

On  the  night  of  August  1st,  1876,  he  was  playing 
cards  with  a  miner  named  Jack  McCall,  who  was  a 
worthless  character  and  decidedly  repulsive,  being 
cross-eyed  to  such  an  extent  that  it  was  hard  to  tell 
which  way  he  was  looking.  On  the  morning  of  the 
2nd,  I  came  on  watch,  relieving  the  night  man,  and 
found  them  still  playing  cards.  The  night  man  told 
me  they  had  been  playing  since  midnight  and  that  Mc- 
Call was  about  broke,  at  the  same  time  showing  me 
McCall's  sack  of  gold  dust  that  lay  behind  the  bar. 
Presently  Bill  asked  me  how  much  dust  was  in  the 
sack.  I  weighed  it  and  told  him  one  hundred  and 
seven  dollars  worth. 

Bill  then  remarked  to  McCall:  "You  have  over- 
played yourself  by  ten  dollars." 

McCall  replied,  "All  right,  I  will  make  it  good  next 
Saturday  night," 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  220 

This  ended  the  game,  McCall  saying  "I  have  not 
got  money  enough  to  buy  my  breakfast."  Bill  handed 
him  seventy-five  cents  in  shinplasters,  telling  him  to 
go  and  eat;  also  telling  him  that  if  he  got  hungry 
again  later  in  the  day,  he  would  help  him  out.  They 
then  had  a  parting  drink  together,  and  McCall  left  the 
saloon. 

About  one-thirty  in  the  afternoon,  Carl  Mann, 
Charley  Rich  and  Captain  Massey  engaged  in  a  poker 
game.  Bill,  in  company  with  Charley  Utter  sauntered 
in  and  was  invited  by  Mann  to  make  the  game  four- 
handed.  Bill  joined  them,  but  before  doing  so  re- 
quested Rich,  who  was  sitting  with  his  back  to  the 
wall,  to  give  him  his  seat.  Knowing  Bill's  habits, 
Rich  rose  to  comply,  when  Captain  Massey,  from 
whom  Bill  had  won  some  money  a  few  nights  before, 
spoke  up  and  said  that  he  preferred  to  have  Bill  sit 
opposite  him,  remarking:  "No  one  is  going  to  shoot 
you  in  the  back." 

Bill  replied,  "All  right,  you  old  grouch.  I  will  sit 
here,"  at  the  same  time  pulling  out  the  stool  with 
his  foot,  from  under  the  table,  sitting  down  on  it. 
Mann  sat  on  Bill's  left,  Rich  on  his  right  and  Massey 
opposite,  Bill  facing  the  front  entrance  to  the  saloon, 
with  his  back  exposed  to  the  rear  entrance.  They  had 
been  playing  not  to  exceed  twenty  minutes,  when 
Massey  beat  a  king  full  for  Bill  with  four  sevens, 
breaking  Bill  on  the  hand.  They  were  playing  table 
stakes.  Bill  then  asked  me  to  bring  him  fifty  dollars 
worth  of  checks,  which  I  did.  Charley  Utter,  who 
had  been  sitting  by  Bill's  side  a  little  back  of  him, 
remarked:  "Bill,  I  will  go  and  get  something  to  eat." 
I  placed  the  checks  on  the  table  in  front  of  Bill,  stand- 
ing as  I  did  so  between  him  and  Carl  Mann.  Bill 
looked  up  at  me  and  remarked :  "The  old  duffer  (mean- 
ing Massey)  broke  me  on  the  hand."  These  were 
last  words  he  ever  uttered. 


Page  221  H  A  R  D    K  X  O  C  K  S 

*- 

There  was  a  loud  report,  followed  by  the  words, 
'Take  that."  McCall  had  shot  him  in  the  back  of  the 
head  with  a  forty-five  Colts  six-shooter,  the  ball 
coining  out  under  the  right  cheek  bone,  and  piercing 
the  wrist  of  Captain  Massey,  who  had  his  hand  around 
his  checks  that  he  had  just  won  from  Bill. 

Massey  was  the  first  to  run  out  to  the  street, 
shouting  that  Wild  Bill  had  shot  him.  He  did  not 
know  differently  until  some  time  afterward.  No  one 
being  armed  at  the  time,  we  all  rushed  out  to  the 
street,  McCall  following.  The  latter  tried  to  make  his 
escape  on  a  "horse,  which  was  tied  to  a  hitching  rack 
in  front  of  the  door.  The  cinch  of  the  saddle  having 
been  loosened,  when  he  attempted  to  mount  the  horse, 
the  saddle  turned  with  him.  He  then  ran  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  street.  By  this  time  a  large  crowd  had 
gathered,  which  surrounded  him.  With  six-shooter 
in '  his  hand,  McCall  pointed  first  at  one  and  then 
another,  but  not  shooting.  Those  in  the  crowd  who 
were  armed  were  afraid  to  shoot  at  him  for  fear  of 
shooting  each  other.  A  man  named  Tom  Mulquinn 
grasped  him  from  behind,  pinned  his  arms  while  the 
others  disarmed  him.  They  then  took  him  back  into 
the  saloon  where  the  body  lay  and  asked  him  a  few 
questions,  which  he  refused  to  answer.  They  finally 
took  him  to  a  log  cabin  in  the  rear  of  the  saloon.  All 
was  excitement.  Some  wanted  to  hang  him,  others 
to  shoot  him,  but  wiser  heads  prevailed  and  an  in- 
vestigation was  agreed  upon.  He  was  kept  under 
guard  for  three  days  and  then  given  a  miner's  trial 
in  the  opera  house.  Selecting  twelve  men  as  a  jury, 
a  man  to  prosecute  and  another  to  defend  him,  for 
by  this  time,  on  account  of  Bill's  past  reputation,  the 
citizens  split  into  two  factions,  one  of  which  sympa- 
thized with  McCall  and  the  other  faction  with  Bill. 

After  the  witnesses  had  been  examined,  McCall 
took  the  stand  in  his  own  defense  and  told  in  a 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  222 

straightforward  manner  that  Bill  had  killed  his 
brother,  Sam  Strawhan,  in  Riley's  saloon  at  Hayes 
City,  Kansas,  in  1868,  while  he  was  a  soldier  at  Fort 
Hayes;  that  he  had  promised  his  widowed  mother  on 
her  death  bed  he  would  follow  Bill  as  long  as  he  lived 
till  he  got  a  chance  to  kill  him,  and  knowing  Bill's 
reputation  for  quickness  with  a  gun,  knew  that  his 
only  chance  was  to  slip  up  behind  him.  He  admitted 
that  he  had  killed  Bill,  was  glad  of  it,  and  would  do 
the  same  thing  over  again  if  he  had  to.  The  jury 
believed  the  statement  and  acquitted  him. 

McCall  left  Deadwood  that  same  night,  going  to 
Laramie  City  on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad,  and  there 
boasted  of  the  killing  of  Wild  Bill.  A  friend  of  Bill's 
telegraphed  to  Jeff  Carr  at  Cheyenne,  then  United 
States  Marshal  of  Wyoming,  who  arrested  McCall.  He 
was  taken  to  Yankton,  South  Dakota,  tried  before 
the  United  States  Court,  convicted  and  hanged. 

On  the  scaffold  McCall  denied  the  previous  state- 
ment that  Strawhan  was  his  brother  and  admitted 
that  he  had  told  the  story  to  fool  the  Deadwood 
miners.  He  said  that  he  was  a  deserter  from  the  7th 
cavalry,  but  that  he  was  in  Hayes  City  at  the  time  Bill 
killed  Strawhan,  and  that  he  did  not  know  why  he 
killed  Bill,  as  he  had  never  done  him  any  harm.  His 
hanging  was  spectacular.  A  scaffold  was  erect ed^  on 
the  open  prairie  and  thousands  of  people  from  miles 
around  witnessed  the  execution. 

Wild  Bill's  body  was  buried  with  his  head  resting 
near  a  large  pine  stump,  on  which  was  blazed  the 
following  inscription:  "Here  lies  the  body  of  Wild 
Bill,  murdered  by  Jack  McCall,  August  the  2nd,  1876." 
Underneath  this  the  words:  "Custer  was  lonesome 
without  you." 

The  funeral  was  a  very  large  one,  and  very  im- 
pressive; all  the  stores,  saloons  and  dance-halls  being 


Page  223  HARDKNOCKS 

/ 

closed  out  of  respect  to  the  greatest  character  of  his 
day. 

Eight  years  later  the  citizens  of  Deadwood  moved 
all  the  bodies  of  the  dead  to  a  new  cemetery.  On 
exhuming  Bill's  body,  his  entire  left  side  was  found  to 
be  petrified.  Bill's  body  and  that  of  Parson  Smith 
were  buried  side  by  side,  and  monuments  erected  over 
them  as  a  mark  of  honor  and  respect.  And  to  this 
day,  I  am  told,  on  the  second  day  of  August,  the  bells 
are  tolled  in  Deadwood.  Two  monuments  were  made 
for  Bill.  The  first  one  was  completely  destroyed  by 
being  chipped  by  tourists  and  curio  hunters.  The 
present  monument  is  protected  by  a  steel  wire  en- 
closure. 

Wild  Bill  didn't  in  his  career  as  a  marshal  impose 
on  men  because  he  was  such.  I  will  sight  an  instance. 
While  at  Hayes  City,  one  Hughie  Teets  kept  a  butcher 
shop  in  that  town,  and  had  some  hot  words  with  Bill, 
finally  saying,  "Bill,  if  you  will  put  your  guns  away  I 
will  fight  you  a  fist  fight." 

"All  right,"  replied  Bill,  handing  his  guns  to  a 
friend.  They  went  at  it  hammer  and  tongs.  First  Bill 
would  have  the  best  of  it,  and  again  Hughie.  Finally 
Hughie  backed  Bill  up  against  the  sidewalk,  which  was 
about  four  feet  higher  than  the  street.  Bending  Bill 
back  against  the  walk,  he  was  pounding  him  unmerci- 
fully, when  outsiders  interfered.  Hughie  would  not 
quit  unless  Bill  would  cry  enough.  This  Bill  refused 
to  do.  Finally  the  crowd,  fearing  that  Hughie  would 
break  Bill's  back,  pulled  him  off  Bill,  who  arose  quietly 
putting  his  hands  against  his  back,  saying,  "Hughie, 

you  came  d near  breaking  my  back,  but  I  still 

think  I  am  the  better  man,  and  when  I  fully  recover 
from  this  scrap,  I  will  fight  you  again,  but  it  will  be  on 
the  prairie  where  there  are  no  sidewalks." 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  224 

Hughie  replied,  "All  right,  Bill,  I  will  be  ready  any- 
time you  feel  like  it."  Some  weeks  after  Bill  called 
on  Hughie,  and  said,  "I  have  thought  this  matter  over 
and  have  concluded  to  call  it  off,  as  I  believe  you  are  as 
good  a  man  as  I."  This  ended  the  matter.  Hughie 
now  resides  in  Portland,  Oregon,  hale  and  hearty  at 
76  years  of  age. 


Page  225  HARD    KNOCKS 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

PERILS  OF  THE  TRAIL— A  RIDE  WITH  DISPATCHES— 
THE  HORSE  A  FAITHFUL  SENTINEL— COMIC  HAP- 
PENINGS IN  DEADWOOD. 

BOUT  the  middle  of  August  there  arrived  in 
Deadwood  a  courier  with  dispatches  from 
General  Miles'  command.  This  fellow  had 
ridden  some  four  hundred  miles  and  was  very 
sick  with  mountain  fever.  Being  unable  to 
continue  his  journey  to  Fort  Laramie,  and  it 
being  necessary  to  get  those  dispatches  to  their  des- 
tination, he  tried  to  secure  someone  to  carry  them 
through.  Hearing  of  this,  I  received  permission  from 
Mr.  Mann  to  make  the  trip  to  Fort  Laramie,  where  I 
had  some  business  I  wanted  to  attend  to. 

The  courier  gave  me  the  dispatches  and  an  order 
on  the  commanding  officer  for  one  hundred  dollars; 
this  amount  was  to  be  deducted  from  the  money  he 
was  to  receive.  In  making  these  rides  one  is  com- 
pelled to  ride  nights,  laying  up  in  the  day  time, 
owing  to  the  Indians  being  bad.  I  left  Deadwood  at 
nine  o'clock  P.  M.,  and  rode  until  just  before  day 
break.  After  watering  my  horse,  I  staked  him  out 
by  driving  a  large  picket  pin  in  the  ground,  attaching 
to  it  a  forty  foot  lariat  tied  to  the  horse's  neck.  This 
gave  him  space  enough  to  graze.  I  then  took  my 
saddle,  bridle  and  saddle  blanket,  going  off  some  five 
hundred  yards  from  the  horse,  where  I  lay  down  to 
sleep — or,  to  try  to  sleep.  With  the  thought  of 
danger  in  mind,  I  did  not  expect  to  sleep  soundly. 
The  reason  for  my  getting  some  distance  away  from 
the  horse  I  will  explain: 

If  an  Indian  or  Indians  discovered  a  horse,  they 
would  straightway  look  for  the  owner  and  by  being 
hidden  in  this  manner,  one  would  be  less  liable  to  dis- 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  226 

covery  and  had  a  better  chance  of  defending  himself, 
as  a  Sioux  Indian  did  not  care  to  take  an  even  chance, 
and  would  be  more  likely  to  take  the  horse  than  to 
hunt  for  its  rider.  Before  approaching  the  horse  in 
the  evening  about  dusk,  the  rider  arose  carefully, 
looking  at  the  horse  and  if  he  were  lying  down  or 
grazing,  the  rider  could  be  pretty  certain  that  there 
were  no  Indians  in  very  close  proximity  to  him.  On 
the  other  hand,  if  he  were  looking  in  any  particular 
direction,  and  scented  danger,  he  would  throw  his 
ears  forward  and  if  convinced  that  the  object  he  was 
looking  at  was  an  Indian,  he  would  run  at  top  speed 
around  the  picket  pin,  trying  to  escape.  It  would  be 
then  that  the  rider  must  look  out  for  himself.  If 
any  of  these  things  did  not  happen,  he  would  walk 
over  to  the  horse,  saddle  him,  water  him,  and  resume 
his  journey. 

It  is  wonderful  when  one  is  out  with  these  animals, 
how  attached  they  become.  There  were  times  when  I 
would  walk  up  to  my  horse,  that  he  would  nicker  in  a 
low  tone  and  rub  his  nose  against  me  in  a  very  know- 
ing manner.  Meaning,  I  presume,  "I  am  glad  to  see 
you."  The  third  night  out  on  this  trip,  the  night  being 
very  dark,  I  was  riding  through  Red  Canyon  at  a  rapid 
pace.  This  was  a  very  dangerous  part  of  the  road,  as 
the  canyon  was  deep  and  one  each  side  very  rocky 
hills;  along  the  water's  edge  large  willows  grew,  the 
road  crossing  a  stream  at  four  different  points. 

Suddenly  my  horse  shied,  snorted  and  stopped,  and 
came  very  near  unseating  me.  I  tried  to  urge  him 
on  but  he  would  not  move.  Dismounting,  and  holding 
him  by  the  bridle  rein,  I  walked  a  step  or  two  and 
found  lying  in  their  blankets,  on  the  ground,  a  man 
and  woman,  killed  and  scalped.  The  Indians  must 
have  crawled  upon  them  while  they  were  asleep, 
as  I  saw  no  signs  of  a  struggle.  Hurriedly  mounting 
my  horse,  I  went  on  until  I  reached  the  end  of  the 


Page  227  HARDKNOCKS 

canyon,  where  there  was  a  company  of  soldiers  sta- 
tioned to  escort  teams  through  this  canyon  and  pro- 
tect them.  I  told  them  of  what  I  had  seen  and 
remained  there  during  the  day.  About  ten  o'clock  in 
the  morning  they  brought  the  bodies  there  and  found 
in  addition  to  what  I  saw,  another  body — that  of  a 
negro  woman.  She  too  had  been  killed  and  scalped. 
I  arrived  in  Fort  Laramie  in  due  time,  delivering  my 
dispatches  and  collecting  my  money.  I  remained  there 
three  days,  returning  to  Deadwood  with  some 
freighters  who  were  hauling  freight.  We  had  a  very 
pleasant  trip. 

Combined  with  a  rough  occurrences  in  Deadwood, 
we  also  had  many  innocent  amusements,  some  of 
which  were  very  comical.  I  have  spoken  of  a  char- 
acter named  Cheating  Sheely,  so  named  on  account 
of  his  being  a  great  cheat  at  cards.  It  was  utterly 
impossible  for  him  to  play  cards  for  money  or  fun 
without  cheating.  He  was  our  porter  in  the  saloon, 
and  received  his  pay  every  night — five  dollars.  He 
would  then  leave  the  saloon  looking  for  some  easy 
victim  with  whom  to  play  cards.  Cheeting  Sheely 
invariably  lost,  as  he  was  so  busy  cheating  that  he 
neglected  to  watch  the  actions  of  his  opponents,  who 
could  also  cheat,  in  many  cases.  However,  one  night 
he  found  an  easy  game  in  which  he  won  three  hundred 
dollars  in  gold  dust.  He  now  thought  he  had  all  the 
money  in  Deadwood.  In  order  to  win  this  he  was 
compelled  to  play  all  night.  When  showing  up  at  the 
saloon  in  the  morning,  he  was  so  sleepy  that  he  could 
scarcely  keep  his  eyes  open.  The  news  of  his  winning 
was  well  known  around  the  saloon.  About  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  he  lay  down  on  a  bench  at 
the  rear  of  the  room,  taking  off  his  coat  and  vest, 
which  contained  his  money,  and  folding  them  up, 
placed  them  under  his  head  for  a  pillow.  Carl  Mann, 
who  was  a  great  practical  joker,  seeing  him  sleeping 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  228 

there,  concluded  to  give  him  a  scare,  and  if  possible 
get  possession  of  his  gold.  Gathering  all  the  stools 
that  we  had  in  the  house  (we  did  not  have  chairs  in 
those  days),  he  piled  them  up  over  Sheely  in  such 
a  manner  that  if  he  moved  they  would  fall.  Mann 
then  took  his  six-shooter  and  fired  it  through  the  open 
back  door. 

Sheely  being  an  awful  coward  and  having  a  great 
fear  of  a  six-shooter,  when  the  report  aroused  him, 
suddenly  jumped  up,  knocking  over  the  stools,  rushing 
out  of  the  back  door,  calling  out  that  he  had  been  shot. 
Carl  Mann  then  hurriedly  took  his  poke  of  dust  from 
his  coat,  substituting  one  of  the  same  size,  containing 
brass  filings  and  other  material.  In  a  short  time 
Sheely  returned  and  picking  up  his  coat,  extracted  the 
poke,  saying  it  was  a  wonder  some  one  had  not  stolen 
it.  He  then  went  off  to  bed  without  examining  the 
contents.  He  returned  in  about  an  hour,  his  face  as 
white  as  marble,  exhibited  the  poke,  and  showed  us  its 
contents.  We  all  laughed.  Carl  Mann  told  him  to  go 
after  the  fellow  he  had  played  cards  with,  as  he  was 
sure  it  was  he  who  had  buncoed  him.  For  two  days 
he  hunted  for  this  man.  Carl  Mann,  being  afraid 
Sheely  would  go  crazy,  returned  his  money. 

Another  character,  Pink  Bedford,  was  a  very  fine 
poker  player,  and  if  sober,  was  capable  of  winning 
large  sums  of  money.  But  poor  Pink  would  go  on 
periodical  sprees,  lasting  until  he  would  finally  become 
sick.  Carl  Mann  was  much  interested  in  this  man  and 
tried  in  many  ways  to  keep  him  straight,  but  always 
failing.  Finally  he  concluded  that  he  would  have  a 
joke  on  him. 

Procuring  a  ladder  about  twenty-five  feet  long, 
Carl  Mann  and  two  others  lashed  Pink  on  it,  with  his 
feet  resting  on  a  round  of  the  ladder,  his  arms  being 
lashed  to  the  side,  allowing  him  space  enough  to  bend 
his  head  over.  They  then  took  the  ladder  out  in  the 


Page  229  HARD    KNOCKS 

street,  setting  it  up  against  the  building.  When  Pink 
sobered  up  a  little,  he  could  not  understand  where  he 
was  and  began  to  yell.  Mann  ran  out  and  threw  a 
bucket  of  water  in  his  face.  This  revived  him  very 
much.  Mann  then  addressed  him  thus:  "You  must 
promise  me  that  you  will  not  drink  whiskey  again  for 
six  months  and  you  must  swear  that  you  will  not." 
Pink  took  some  horrible  oaths,  one  of  them  being  that 
he  hoped  God  would  paralyze  him  if  he  took  another 
drink  of  whiskey  for  six  months. 

They  then  carried  him  to  the  rear  of  the  dance- 
hall,  standing  the  ladder  against  the  door  which 
opened  in.  The  dance-hall  girls  lived  in  this  end  of 
the  building.  The  manager,  or  bouncer  as  he  was 
termed,  stepping  outside,  hollered  to  the  girls  to  come 
out  there  quick.  When  they  opened  the  door,  the 
ladder  and  Pink,  naturally  fell  in  on  them.  This 
frightened  them  very  much.  Pink  begged  for  dear 
life  to  be  released,  but  before  doing  so,  they  carried 
him  through  the  dance-hall,  finally  bringing  him  over 
to  the  saloon  and  releasing  him. 

Pink  then  behaved  himself  for  about  two  weeks. 
One  day,  however,  on  going  into  the  Montana  saloon, 
one  of  his  friends  saw  him  setting  a  glass  down  on 
the  bar,  having  just  taken  a  drink.  This  friend  then 
said  to  him :  "Take  a  drink  with  me." 

Looking  at  his  friend  a  moment,  he  said :  "Do  not 
tempt  me.  Don't  you  know  I  have  sworn  oif  drinking 
whiskey." 

His  friend  then  said:  "Take  a  cigar  or  something 
soft?" 

Pink,  turning  to  the  barkeeper,  asked  him  to  give 
him  a  drink  of  gin.  Carl  Mann,  hearing  of  this, 
immediately  went  after  him,  reminding  him  of  the 
oaths  he  had  taken.  After  looking  at  Mann  a  few 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  230 

moments,  he  said:  "It  was  gin  I  drank,  and  I  have  no 
recollection  of  taking  an  oath  only  that  I  would  not 
take  a  drink  of  whiskey  for  six  months,  which  I 
intend  to  keep."  This  amused  Mann  very  much.  Poor 
Pink  could  not  keep  away  from  the  booze,  which  was 
his  undoing. 

In  front  of  the  window,  outside  of  the  Sixty-six 
saloon,  Mann  had  a  bench  erected,  which  would  accom- 
modate two  people  only.  In  one  end  of  this  he  bored 
a  small  hole  through  it,  placing  therein  a  needle  point- 
ing up,  attaching  to  the  head  of  the  needle  a  small 
weight,  and  then  running  the  string  through  the 
window  to  the  inside  of  the  building.  Then  he  would 
get  someone  in  conversation,  sitting  him  down  on  the 
end  where  the  needle  was.  Mann  would  have  some 
confederate  pull  the  string,  which  would  pierce  the 
one  sitting  there,  the  weight  pulling  the  needle  down. 
The  hole  in  the  bench  was  so  small  that  it  was  not 
perceptible,  the  victim  getting  pierced,  would  jump  up 
and  with  his  hand  feel  on  the  bench  and  then  to  the 
part  of  his  anatomy  pierced,  and  many  times  would 
finally  conclude  that  it  was  a  sliver  or  something  else, 
and  would  again  sit  down,  when  he  would  be  pierced 
a  second  time.  This  caused  a  great  deal  of  laughter, 
forcing  the  victim  to  buy  the  drinks  for  those  present. 
The  boys  around  the  saloon  worked  this  very  strong, 
particularly  one  named  Johnie  the  Oyster,  so  Carl 
Mann  one  day  reversed  the  needle  in  the  bench.  Oyster 
coming  along  with  a  victim  and  not  knowing  that  the 
needle  had  been  changed,  set  his  man  down  and  began 
talking  to  him,  when  Carl  pulled  the  string,  piercing 
Oyster  very  hard.  Oyster  jumped  in  the  air  about 
three  feet,  yelling  with  pain.  The  fellow  with  him 
thought  that  he  had  gone  crazy,  and  I  don't  wonder, 
for  Oyster  was  tearing  around  there,  threatening  to 
kill  everybody  in  the  saloon.  However,  in  time  he 


Page  231  HARDKNOCKS 

quieted  down,  treated  everybody,  and  the  bench  was 
removed. 

I  left  Deadwood  October  1st,  1876,  in  company  with 
twenty  others.  We  were  employed  by  my  friend 
Botsford  and  the  Wheeler  Bros,  to  guard  two  thous- 
and pounds  of  gold  dust  they  were  taking  from  Dead- 
wood  to  Cheyenne,  as  rumors  had  been  circulated  that 
road  agents  planned  to  hold  up  the  same.  The  gold 
dust  was  transported  in  a  four-horse  wagon.  We 
guards  were  mounted  and  heavily  armed;  five  others 
and  myself  riding  a  quarter  of  a  mile  ahead  as  ad- 
vance guards  and  five  others  acting  as  rear  guards, 
the  balance  riding  each  side  of  the  wagon. 

We  made  this  trip  in  very  fast  time,  arriving  in 
Cheyenne  without  any  incident  out  of  the  ordinary. 
The  owners  of  the  gold  dust  paid  us  each  two  hundred 
dollars  and  a  railroad  ticket  to  any  point  desired.  The 
owners  went  to  the  Centennial  at  Philadelphia,  trans- 
porting their  gold  dust  with  them.  I  took  my  ticket 
to  Eureka,  Nevada,  arriving  there  in  due  course  of  time 
with  over  five  thousand  dollars  in  my  possession.  There 
I  met  an  old  miner,  who  had  partially  developed  a  silver 
mine  at  a  place  called  Tybo,  two  hundred  miles  south 
of  Eureka.  He  gave  me  a  half  interest  and  together 
we  went  to  develop  it,  I  furnishing  the  capital.  In 
three  months  I  was  broke,  the  mine  proving  a  failure. 
I  worked  my  way  back  to  Eureka  and  from  there  to 
Winnemucca,  Nevada,  where  I  found  a  stock  man  who 
was  transporting  ten  carloads  of  cattle  to  Oakland, 
California.  He  employed  me  to  help  care  for  them  en 
route,  giving  me  my  passage  and  board.  He  kept 
telling  me  how  valuable  I  was  to  him  and  that  when 
he  unloaded  at  Oakland,  he  would  not  forget  me 
financially,  as  he  knew  I  was  broke. 

After  unloading  the  cattle,  he  gave  me  his  res- 
idence address  in  Oakland,  telling  me  to  be  there  at 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  232 

five  o'clock  and  if  he  was  not  there,  that  he  would 
leave  the  money  for  me  with  his  wife.  I  was  at  his 
house  at  the  appointed  time  and  was  met  at  the  door 
by  his  wife,  who  said:  "Oh,  you  are  the  man  who 
came  with  my  husband  on  the  cattle  train.  He  is  not 
in,  but  has  left  something  for  you."  Whereupon  she 
generously  handed  me  the  munificent  sum  of  thirty- 
five  cents. 

I  took  the  money,  looked  at  the  woman  in  astonish- 
ment and  said:  "Is  this  all  he  left?" 

"Why,  yes,"  she  replied.  "What  did  you  expect; 
a  million  dollars  ?" 

"No,  no,"  I  answered,  "this  will  last  me  the  balance 
of  my  life."  I  shall  always  believe  that  she  held  out 
a  portion  of  the  money,  or  else  her  husband  had 
peddled  me  a  large  amount  of  hot  air  during  the  trip. 

I  crossed  the  ferry  to  San  Francisco  at  a  cost 
of  fifteen  cents,  and  was  at  last  in  a  city  of  the 
Golden  West,  with  a  handbag  and  a  capital  of  twenty 
cents  with  which  to  start  life  anew.  This  was^  in 
1877.  Passing  through  the  ferry  station,  it  being 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  I  was  accosted  by 
one  of  the  night-hawk  hackmen,  so  numerous  in  those 
days.  He  snatched  my  bag  from  my  hand,  opened  the 
hack  door  and  insisted  on  my  getting  in.  I  immedi- 
ately recognized  him  as  a  man  called  Slippery  Smith, 
who  the  year  before  had  been  run  out  of  Deadwood  for 
horse  stealing  and  who  was  an  all-round  tough  char- 
acter. He  had  not  recognized  me. 

•  Chuckling  to  myself,  I  got  into  his  hack.  He  did 
not  ask  me  where  I  wanted  to  go,  but  drove  me 
around  for  half  an  hour,  finally  stopping  in  front  of 
the  Grand  Hotel.  Before  opening  the  hack  door,  he 
demanded  my  fare,  which  he  said  was  five  dollars.  I 
then  asked  him  to  drive  me  to  the  city  jail. 


Page  233  HARDKNOCKS 

This  was  a  puzzler  to  Slippery  Smith,  and  he  asked 
me  why  I  wanted  to  go  there. 

I  replied:  "To  have  you  arrested  for  stealing  horses 
in  Deadwood." 

He  then  opened  the  hack  door  and  under  the  street 
light  looked  me  carefully  over,  and  finally  recog- 
nized me.  Grasping  me  by  the  hand,  shaking  it  'till 
it  was  nearly  torn  from  the  sockets,  he  remarked: 
"Young,  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  What  in  the  world 
are  you  doing  here?"  I  then  told  him  my  late  ex- 
periences, also  that  my  finances  were  reduced  to 
twenty  cents.  He  insisted  upon  my  getting  back  into 
the  hack,  and  drove  to  a  restaurant  where  we  partook 
of  a  fine  meal.  We  then  went  to  his  room;  Smith 
telling  me  to  go  to  bed  and  that  he  would  see  me  in 
the  morning.  This  I  did,  and  got  a  good  night's  rest. 

The  reader  must  bear  in  mind  that  this  was  my 
first  appearance  in  a  large,  civilized  city  for  a  num- 
ber of  years.  My  friend  arrived  at  the  room  about 
nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  took  me  to  breakfast, 
where  we  talked  over  old  times  in  Deadwood.  Handing 
me  a  five  dollar  gold  piece  and  giving  me  the  address 
of  the  house,  he  told  me  to  take  in  the  sights  and 
enjoy  myself,  and  meet  him  at  the  room  at  six  o'clock. 
I  wandered  around  all  day  like  a  stray  goose  and 
wondering  why  in  the  vast  crowd  of  people  I  met  and 
passed  there  was  not  a  single  familiar  face. 

Completely  tired  out,  six  o'clock  finally  came.  I 
found  the  room  and  my  friend  Smith  waiting  for  me. 
On  the  way  to  supper  he  informed  me  that  he  would 
take  care  of  me  until  I  was  accustomed  to  city  ways, 
and  that  the  better  way  for  me  to  do  would  be  to  ac- 
company him  on  his  hack.  I  accepted  his  suggestion, 
and  became  what  he  termed  the  "hack  dog."  I  did 
not  ask  him  at  the  time  the  meaning  of  the  term,  but 
very  soon  found  out  by  a  little  experience  on  the  third 


HARD    KNOCKS  Page  234 

night.  Our  hack  stand  was  at  the  corner  of  Bush  and 
Kearney  Streets  and  the  business  usually  commenced 
at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  after  the  horse- 
cars  had  stopped  running.  We  were  then  on  the  alert 
for  unfortunates,  who,  having  imbibed  too  freely,  had 
missed  the  last  car. 

This  particular  morning  we  grabbed  an  athletic 
appearing  young  man,  whom  we  put  in  the  hack,  and 
after  considerable  questioning  got  from  him  his  ad- 
dress. After  driving  him  around  for  about  an  hour, 
we  eventually  took  him  to  his  destination.  The  long 
ride  had  partially  sobered  him.  On  getting  out  of  the 
hack,  Smith  demanded  seven  dollars,  at  the  same  time 
trying  to  impress  upon  the  young  man  the  fact  that 
he  had  been  driven  to  various  places  and  that  the 
charge  was  reasonable.  I  was  sitting  on  the  hack  seat 
at  the  time  and  saw  him  knock  Smith  under  the  hack. 
This  was  where  the  part  of  the  "hack  dog"  came  in, 
as  I  was  supposed  to  go  to  the  assistance  of  the  driver. 
This  I  quickly  did,  and  had  no  sooner  landed  on  the 
sidewalk,  when  the  athlete  landed  on  me,  with  a 
knockout  blow  between  the  eyes,  putting  me  to  sleep. 

When  I  came  to,  I  found  Smith  still  much  dazed 
and  our  passenger  gone.  Both  of  my  eyes  were  badly 
swollen  and  for  the  next  few  days  very  black.  The 
next  day  in  the  room,  Smith  remarked:  "That  fellow 
was  a  corker."  And  I  heartily  agreed  with  him. 

I  followed  the  hack-dog  business  for  about  a  month, 
and  I  assure  you  had  many  funny  experiences.  At 
times  when  the  passengers  would  not  settle  the  ex- 
horbitant  fares,  Smith  would  drive  them  to  the  near- 
est policeman  and  if  they  had  money  on  them,  he 
would  force  them  to  settle;  the  policeman  receiving 
a  portion  of  the  fare  collected.  If  they  did  not  have 
the  money,  we  would  take  their  watch,  ring  or  any 
article  of  value,  telling  them  that  they  could  redeem 


Page235  HARD   KNOCKS 

such  article  at  the  hack  stand  at  the  corner  of  Bush 
and  Kearney  Streets.  This  they  invariably  did.  While 
I  appreciated  Smith's  kindness,  the  business  was  not 
to  my  liking,  and  I  could  not  get  used  to  city  life. 
Consequently  when  harvest  time  came,  I  severed  my 
connections  with  him  and  left  the  busy  city  for  life 
I  was  more  adapted  to. 

While  out  in  the  harvest  field,  I  became  acquainted 
with  a  man  from  Portland,  Oregon,  who  told  me  of 
the  many  chances  for  a  young  man  in  that  city.  After 
harvest,  I  returned  to  San  Francisco  and  from  there 
took  the  steamer  to  Portland.  In  1879,  one  year  after 
my  arrival  in  Portland,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
get  a  position  which  in  many  respects  was  similar  to 
my  past  experience  and  much  like  the  work  I  had  been 
accustomed  to. 

The  construction  of  the  Northern  Pacific  railroad 
was  in  progress,  through  the  sparcely  settled  country 
of  Eastern  Oregon,  Idaho  and  Montana.  My  position 
was  that  of  riding  steward  for  the  firm  of  Du  Boise 
&  King,  who  had  the  contract  for  the  boarding  of 
the  white  men  on  the  construction.  Having  had  ex- 
perience on  the  construction  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka 
&  Santa  Fe  railroad,  I  thoroughly  understood  the 
type  of  men  I  would  have  to  deal  with.  They  were 
principally  Irish  and  I  found  among  them  many  of 
whom  had  worked  on  the  Santa  Fe  in  the  same  line 
of  work.  To  the  Irish  we  must  give  the  credit  of 
building  the  first  transcontinental  railroad.  I  often 
wonder  what  has  become  of  this  vast  army  of  men, 
for  they  seem  to  have  entirely  disappeared,  as  far  as 
construction  work  is  concerned.  It  must  be  that  they 
have  been  supplanted  by  the  Italians  and  Japs. 

We  boarded  these  men  in  large  tents.  At  times 
there  were  as  many  as  two  hundred  in  one  camp  and 
about  thirty  camps  strung  along  the  construction  work 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  236 

for  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles  or  more.  It  was  my 
duty  to  keep  these  camps  supplied  with  food,  cooks  and 
waiters.  We  used  tin  dishes.  As  the  construction 
work  advanced,  tents  had  to  be  moved.  Our  supplies 
were  shipped  from  Portland  to  the  end  of  the  track 
and  from  there  transported  by  four-horse  teams. 
These  men  were  a  hard  set  of  people  to  handle  and 
made  more  so  as  whiskey  was  allowed  to  be  sold  in 
each  camp. 

The  reader  can  imagine  approximately  six  thou* 
sand  of  these  men  being  paid  off  on  the  first  of  each 
month,  less  four  dollars  and  fifty  cents  per  week  each 
reserved  for  board.  After  being  paid,  the  majority 
of  them  would  go  to  the  saloon,  get  beastly  intoxi- 
cated and  then  settle  any  previous  differences  which 
might  have  arisen,  by  fighting  like  bulldogs.  This 
was  the  particular  time  when  they  were  looking  for 
the  riding  stewart,  blaming  him  for  the  poor  quality 
of  food  and  numerous  other  things,  and  winding  up 
with  threats  of  dire  vengeance.  There  was  no  turning 
back  on  the  part  of  the  steward,  for  he  had  to  meet 
them  every  day  whether  they  were  drunk  or  sober. 
And  I  assure  you  it  required  a  good  deal  of  tact  and 
nerve  for  him  to  dp  so.  I  was  mounted  but  not  armed 
and  had  to  be  guided  entirely  by  diplomacy.  I  will 
cite  one  of  many  instances  during  the  year  I  filled 
this  position. 

One  morning  at  about  four  o'clock — five  days  after 
payday — I  was  within  about  a  mile  of  Camp  No.  25 
(each  camp  being  numbered),  when  I  heard  a  man 
groaning  in  the  brush  by  the  roadside.  Dismounting, 
I  found  an  old  man  named  Pat  Malloy,  who  ran  one 
of  the  saloons  at  this  camp.  He  had  been  badly  beaten 
up  by  these  fellows,  and  informed  me  that  they  had 
raided  his  saloon,  demolishing  everything  and  confis- 
cated his  whiskey.  He  begged  of  me  not  to  go  into 
this  camp,  as  they  were  planning  on  hanging  the 


Page  237  HARD    KNOCKS 

riding  steward  when  he  came  along.  I  thanked  the 
old  fellow  for  the  warning,  but  told  him  that  I  must 
visit  the  camp,  which  I  did.  I  found  a  great  crowd 
congregated  there,  formed  in  a  circle,  and  in  the 
center  two  men  stripped  to  the  waist  were  engaged  in 
the  so-called  manly  art  of  prize  fighting.  They  had 
whiskey  in  tin  buckets  from  which  they  were  drinking 
freely. 

I  rode  up  to  the  rear  of  the  tent  (they  being  out 
in  front)  and  after  tying  my  horse  to  a  post,  I  entered. 
And  such  a  sight  I  beheld !  Tables  turned  over,  dishes 
and  cooking  utensils  scattered  about,  and  the  cooks 
and  waiters  gone.  Not  having  had  breakfast,  I  found 
a  couple  of  biscuits  and  began  to  eat.  Up  to  this  time 
I  had  not  been  noticed.  Presently  someone  called  out, 
"Boys,  here  is  the  riding  steward's  horse.  Let's  find 
the  steward  and  hang  him."  Then  led  by  a  big, 
strapping  Irishman,  they  rushed  into  the  tent.  I 
stood  my  ground  and  putting  up  my  hand  and  in  a 
loud  voice  commaned  them  to  stop,  as  I  had  some- 
thing to  say.  Their  leader  checked  them,  saying, 
"Let  him  talk.  For  it  is  the  last  talk  he  will  make  on 
earth." 

I  began,  "Boys,  I  am  just  the  same  as  one  of  you, 
and  working  for  wages  the  same  as  you  are."  (What 
followed  verifies  the  biblical  quotation,  "Cast  your 
bread  upon  the  waters  and  it  shall  return  tenfold.") 

Before  I  ceased  talking,  the  leader  suddenly  raised 
his  hand,  saying :  "Boys,  yez  shall  not  touch  that  boy. 
for,  in  the  old  Nicolai  House  in  Portland,  he 
gave  me  a  bed  and  twenty-five  cents  to  get  my  break- 
fast in  the  morning.  If  yez  touch  him,  yez  will 
have  to  fight  me."  This  stopped  them.  They  took  me 
by  the  arm,  in  a  friendly  spirit,  rushed  me  to  the 
liquor  refreshments,  insisting  that  I  have  a  drink, 
then  another,  which  I  accepted.  They  then  appointed 

BANCROFT 

- .  vTtY 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  238 

me  referee  of  two  fights  that  followed.  After  imbib- 
ing this  bad,  fighting  whiskey,  I  was  sorely  tempted 
to  go  a  round  myself,  but  instead  I  hunted  up  the 
camp  crew,  finding  them  a  mile  down  the  road,  hiding 
in  the  brush  and  badly  frightened.  After  a  good  deal 
of  persuasion  on  my  part,  I  succeeded  in  getting  them 
back  to  the  camp.  Straightening  up  the  wreckage  and 
getting  the  fire  started,  I  waited  for  them  to  cook  a 
meal  and  then  joined  the  boys  in  eating  it.  The  next 
day,  upon  visiting  this  camp,  I  found  everything 
perfectly  quiet  and  most  of  the  men  who  were  able  had 
gone  to  their  work.  Carousals  of  this  kind  were  a 
monthly  occurrence. 

At  the  end  of  the  year,  my  contract  having  ex- 
pired, I  returned  to  Portland,  none  the  worse  for  my 
experience.  I  then  engaged  in  the  baggage  and  trans- 
fer business,  which  I  followed  for  six  years.  Tiring 
of  that  I  became  a  traveling  passenger  agent  for  the 
Oregon  Railroad  &  Navigation  Company,  A.  L.  Max- 
well, at  the  time,  being  General  Passenger  Agent. 
This  position  I  held  for  five  years,  and  when  the  great 
Klondike  gold  excitement  broke  out  in  1898,  I  could 
not  resist  the  temptation  of  joining  the  rush,  leaving 
Portland  on  the  first  trip  of  steamer  "George  W. 
Elder,"  which  was  one  of  the  first  to  arrive  at  Skag- 
way,  Alaska.  At  that  place  I  remained  for  a  year, 
equipping  and  operating  the  first  bathhouse  in  Alaska. 
In  this  business,  I  made  a  large  amount  of  money  and 
sold  out  for  a  good  figure.  I  then  went  to  Seattle, 
Washington. 

In  the  year  1900  the  Nome,  Alaska,  excitement 
started.  Twenty-nine  others  and  myself  took  passage 
on  a  one  hundred  and  fifty  ton  sailing  schooner  owned 
by  D.  H.  Smith  and  D.  Bogan. 

On  our  way  to  Dutch  Harbor,  Alaska,  my  partner, 
named  Jim  Harrison,  had  some  misunderstanding  with 


Page  239  HARDKNOCKS 

the  captain.  On  our  arrival  at  Dutch  Harbor  we  found 
quite  a  number  of  steamships  waiting  until  the  ice  went 
out  of  the  Behring  Sea.  Wyat  Earp  had  opened  a 
gambling  resort  there.  Temporarily  whiskey  was 
plentiful.  We  all  enjoyed  ourselves,  Harrison,  meeting 
the  captain  of  the  schooner,  renewed  his  quarrel  and 
knocked  the  captain  down.  Later  I  found  that  the 
captains  of  all  the  ships  in  the  harbor  decided  at  a 
meeting  held  by  them,  that  none  of  them  would  allow 
Harrison  and  myself  to  travel  on  any  of  their  ships  to 
Nome.  In  other  words,  they  intended  to  maroon  us  at 
Dutch  Harbor.  This  was  not  very  pleasant  news.  I, 
knowing  Captain  Tuttle  of  the  Steamer  "Bear,"  ap- 
pealed to  him.  He  informed  me  he  could  fix  it  for  me 
to  go  on  any  steamer,  but  I  must  not  associate  with 
Harrison.  This  offer  I  refused  and  stayed  by  Har- 
rison. We  then  received  notice  from  the  captain  of 
the  schooner,  General  McPherson,  to  come  out  in  a 
small  boat  and  remove  our  effects.  This  we  proceeded 
to  do.  On  our  arrival  at  the  schooner's  side,  we  found 
the  captain  and  first  officer  standing  aft,  each  with 
a  six  shooter  in  his  hand.  I  remarked  to  Harrison, 
"Don't  say  one  word  to  them  until  I  can  get  into  my 
room  and  get  my  shot  gun  and  put  in  two  cartridges." 
We  boarded  the  schooner,  the  captain  and  mate  looking 
daggers  at  us.  I  secured  the  shot  gun.  Jim  began 
folding  up  our  blankets.  When  the  captain  and  mate 
came  down  into  the  cabin,  I  stood  guard  with  the  shot 
gun  while  Jim  packed  our  belongings.  Then  I  ordered 
the  captain  and  mate  to  step  aside  and  allow  us  to  de- 
part in  peace,  or  I  would  blow  their  heads  off.  They 
let  us  depart  in  peace.  I  boarded  the  small  boat, 
guarding  Jim  while  he  did  likewise,  and  reached  the 
shore  without  further  trouble.  This  news  was  much 
exaggerated  by  the  captain  and  mate.  Now  came  the 
trial  of  getting  passage  to  Nome.  I  finally  found  a 
steward  I  had  known  in  Portland,  who  was  employed 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  240 

on  the  steam  schooner  "Nelson."  He  smuggled  both 
of  us  on  the  ship,  bringing  our  belongings  by  piece 
meal  until  all  was  aboard.  We  arrived  in  Nome  in 
good  shape,  after  bucking  ice  for  six  days. 

In  a  few  days  six  of  us  with  packs  on  our  backs, 
started  for  the  interior.  On  the  third  day  out  I  con- 
cluded that  the  undertaking  was  too  much  for  me, 
and  realized  that  I  was  too  old  to  stand  the  "Hard 
Knocks"  I  had  withstood  in  the  past,  and  turning  over 
my  pack  to  my  comrades,  after  I  had  retained  suffici- 
ent goods  to  last  me,  I  returned  to  Nome.  From  Nome  I 
took  a  steamer  to  Seattle,  Washington,  concluding  I 
would  pass  the  remainder  of  my  life  where  there  were 
paved  streets,  porcelain  bathtubs  and  beds  to  sleep  in. 
I  did  not  stay  in  Seattle,  however.  After  a  while  I 
moved  to  Portland,  Oregon. 


s 


Page  241  HARD   KNOCKS 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
MY  BUFFALO  VENTURE  IN  PORTLAND. 

JACK  RUGG  and  myself  purchased  from  Howard 
Eaton  two  buffalo,  one  male  and  one  female, 
for   one  thousand  dollars,   delivered   at   Port- 
land.    Eaton  at  this  time  owned  a  large  herd 
of  buffalo  in  Montana.    Our  contract  with  him 
was  that  the  cow  should  be  with  calf,  as  we  wished 
it  to  be  born  in  Portland.    Our  intention  was  to  ex- 
hibit them.    At  Calispel,  the  nearest  point,  the  cow 
in  trying  to  jump  out  of  the  corral,  injured  herself, 
causing  a  premature  birth.    Eaton  wired  me  what  had 
happened  and  I  instructed  him  to  save  the  dead  calf. 

Upon  the  car's  arrival  here,  I  gave  the  dead  calf 
to  L.  L.  Hawkins,  who  at  that  time  was  gathering 
relics  for  the  City  Museum.  The  buffalo  I  transported 
in  a  covered  dray  to  a  large  tent,  which  enclosed  a 
steel  cage  sixteen  feet  square  and  eight  feet  high, 
and  in  a  short  time  I  had  tamed  the  male  buffalo  by 
feeding  him  myself  three  times  a  day.  He  was  very 
fond  of  wild  pea  vines.  I  named  him  "Joe"  and  every 
time  I  fed  him  I  called  him  by  his  name.  Learning 
his  name  and  knowing  he  was  to  be  fed,  Joe  became 
quite  gentle,  so  much  so,  that  I  could  put  my  hand 
on  his  head.  The  cow  I  could  not  tame.  She  was 
frightfully  mean  and  wild,  and  I  could  do  nothing 
with  her. 

Our  venture  turned  out  a  failure  and  left  us  with 
two  buffalo  on  our  hands.  After  consulting  with  Mr. 
Rugg,  we  concluded  to  sell  them  to  the  city  for  their 
parks,  which  I  succeeded  in  doing,  receiving  for  them 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  From  those  two 
buffalo  the  city  now  have  a  herd  of  five  fine  specimens 
of  these  noble  animals.  Old  Joe  was  killed  two  years 


HARD   KNOCKS  Page  242 

ago  by  his  son — they  having  fought  a  great  battle  to 
the  death  for  the  supremacy  of  the  herd.  Joe  being  the 
older  and  less  able  to  defend  himself,  had  to  succumb 
to  youth  and  was  horribly  gored  to  death.  The  cow 
died  previously. 

I  am  still  residing  in  Portland,  Oregon,  and  am 
in  fairly  good  health,  and  where  I  hope  to  remain  until 
I  cross  the  Great  Divide. 

Should  any  of  my  old-time  companions  visit  Port- 
land, I  shall  be  pleased  to  see  them  and  they  will 
always  find  the  latch  string  on  the  outside  of  my  door. 

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